


Fireproof

by Justalittlelouislove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Dragon AU, Friends to Lovers, M/M, side Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 19:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14625231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justalittlelouislove/pseuds/Justalittlelouislove
Summary: After managing to survive everything Louis's thrown at him over the past decade, Harry thinks he's seen it all. That is until he comes home to a dragon egg in his living room. Together, Louis and Harry learn a little about co-parenting mythical creatures and a lot about themselves.





	Fireproof

**Author's Note:**

> Clevernessoflarry gave me the most amazing art in the world and I am so grateful. Thank you, I'm amazed by you. 
> 
> A huge thank you to Amanda who is the best beta a girl could ask for and also a really amazing and supportive friend. I love you, you little salt shaker. 
> 
> A DOUBLE huge thank you to Helloamhere for the very kind step by step coding instructions. I've never met you but if I ever do Ill hug you and never let go. 
> 
> Lastly, to my alpha Chels thanks for the the ridiculous amount of support you gave me during this process you are infinitely patient and I appreciate you more than I can put into words.

**_Past_ **

The summer sun glittered through the newly wet leaves of the forest trees and fell upon a little boy with dark curls and curious green eyes. Harry was alone, not by his own design, but still, such a familiar state of his daily life that he barely noticed now. He would have loved to have friends, to spend his days with the boys and girls in the village, instead of exploring on his own. But they thought him a little strange, a little too soft for a boy, a little too something. And they had no qualms expressing that to him.

   So, he kept to himself.

   Carefully, he walked over logs and under low hanging branches, using his wild imagination to fill in the gaps friendship would otherwise fill. A toad spotted brown and larger than one he’d ever seen before, hopped on the trail before him. He followed it deeper into the woods, singing a song to himself happily.

   The toad stopped abruptly if a toad’s actions can be described that way, at the foot of a huge oak tree. Harry inched forward slowly, intent on capturing the toad, but worried about scaring it away. As he got closer, the toad stayed where it was, blinking its large dark eyes. Harry bit his lip in concentration.

   “What do you reckon he’s going to do with it if he catches it,” a child’s voice rang out, breaking the silence of the forest and startling Harry. He fell onto his bottom in surprise and looked around him for the source of the voice, clutching his chest.

   Only, there was no one around.

   “Don’t know, do I,” another child’s voice responded, slower and steeped in a slightly different accent. “Maybe he eats them, like the French.”

   Harry scrambled up to his feet and whirled around, thinking maybe he was going crazy. Old Lady Higgins down the road had started hearing people who weren’t there, he’d heard his mum telling his aunt on the phone. Maybe that was what was happening to him.

   A small sound, the bark being pulled off a branch, sounded over his head and Harry snapped his head up in response. There, balanced on a branch that had to be at least six meters from the forest floor, was a boy.

   “How did you get up there,” Harry demanded.

   The boy folded his hands primly in his jean-clad lap and raised his brow. “Not very polite, are you?”

   Harry blushed. “I’m sorry, my name is Harry,” he amended, watching the boys blue eyes sparkle with interest. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

    The boy nodded his head in approval, swinging his bare feet back and forth. “That’s better, don’t you think Zayn?”

   “Much better,” said the other boy, Zayn presumably, sitting three branches higher. Both boys were deeply tanned, but this boy a bit darker as was his hair, and his eyes were honey brown.

   Harry blinked up at him. “You’re up very high.”

   “Yup.”

   It seemed that was all the response Harry was going to get, so he dropped his eyes back to the first boy. “You didn’t tell me your name,” Harry pointed out, full of eight-year-old wisdom.  “You’re supposed to, you know. After I say my bit, you’re supposed to say ‘the pleasure is all mine’ and tell me your name. It’s the rules.”

   The boy pulled a foot up and placed it flat on the branch, resting his chin on his knee. “I don’t much like rules, me,” he said. “Besides, I’ll know you’re speaking to me if you’re looking at me. I’m very good at paying attention.”

Harry was sure that was rude. But, he thought he would very much like to have this boy be his friend, so he didn’t point that out. Instead, he looked around the tree, in search of a lower branch so that he could climb up too.

“There’s one along the side there,” Zayn called out, pointing. “If you want to try and come up. Look right there.”

“Thank.. thank you,” Harry said shyly, unaccustomed to being helped or even really spoken to by children his age.

The branch seemed sturdy under Harry’s boot, so he reached up, grasping a branch just above his head and swung up. He’d never been a very graceful boy, so he wobbled dangerously, but made it up, though he was still quite far away from the other boys.He searched the tree for another branch.

   “On your right, innit,” the blue-eyed boy pointed out, nudging his chin in the direction of another branch. “Use that one.”

   That branch was thinner and much higher up. It looked scarier, but if he sat on it he would be almost level with the boy.  And they had climbed so much higher, surely they knew what they were talking about. So, he climbed.

   It took him three tries, but he got himself up on the higher branch. His heart beat in his chest erratically from the exertion and the prospect of falling from such a great height. Taking a deep breath, he looked up and met the boy’s gaze.

   “That’s very good, Harold,” he said with a smirk, “Haven’t you ever climbed a tree?”

   Harry scooted a little on the branch, fingers trembling. “It’s not my first time no, but I don’t do it very much.”

   “Why not, climbing trees is fun, isn’t it?” The boy sounded curious, but innocently so. Again, Harry was thrown by the way he was being treated. Like he was normal.

   “Well,” Harry started, biting his bottom lip shyly. “My mum doesn’t like me climbing trees on my own, she says it’s too dangerous. You know, in case I fall and break my neck. No one will know.”

   “Are you always alone, then,” Zayn asked, voice gently and melodic.

   Harry felt his cheeks flame. He fidgeted uncomfortably, not wanting to talk about being alone, not wanting to talk about not having any friends. Mostly because he was sure that it was only a matter of time before the two boys realized they didn’t want to be his friend either.

   In his panic, he shifted just a little too much, and suddenly with a resounding crack, the branch snapped. He plummeted towards the ground so fast all he had time to do was register the feeling of his stomach dropping, close his eyes and fall.

   Until he wasn’t.

   Harry blinked his eyes open and found himself less than a meter from the ground, floating. In the next second, he plopped down on his bottom, completely unharmed and wholly confused. He looked around at the forest floor with wide eyes and then up at the boys, just in time to watch the blue-eyed boy step off the branch and drift to the ground with ease.

   “You can fly,” Harry whispered in awe as the boy’s bare feet sunk into the soft leaves of the forest floor.

   With a loud pop, Zayn appeared out of thin air alongside his friend. “Floating. Floating is what he does. He can only get down from places, he can’t get up off the ground.”

   With his mouth agape, Harry stared up at the two boys. Either he really was losing his mind or these boys were some kind of magic.

   “Thank you, Zayn,” the smaller boy said, crossing his arms over his chest in anger. “Can always count on you to cut me down, can’t I.”

Zayn, unphased, rolled his eyes. “If you didn’t have me, you’d never be able to get a hat to fit on your head, with the ego you’ve got.”

   “It’s called self-confidence, Zayn,” the still unnamed boy responded with a stomp and a look of contempt. “You don’t know anything.”

   Zayn opened his mouth to retort, clutching his little fists at his sides.

   “Excuse me,” Harry interrupted timidly. “Are you fairies, then?”

   Both boys turned to him, remembering themselves. Zayn gnawed at his lip nervously while the other boy gave a little sigh and sat down in front of Harry.

   “My name is Louis,” he said gently like he was speaking to a spooked animal. “I figure you’ll need my name if you’re going to keep my secret. Our secret. Cause that’s what we need you to do Harry.” Louis glanced over his shoulder at Zayn, who nodded his head, urging him on.“It’s super important that you don’t tell anyone about what just happened.”

   “And we aren’t fairies,” Zayn added with a sniff. “We’re just magic is all. Fairies have wings and such, don’t they.”

   Harry’s eyes bounced between the two boys before him. He let out a huff of incredulous laughter. “‘Just magic’ he says,” he whispered to himself.

   “I think I fancy a trip to the river,” Louis said standing up and keeping his eyes on Harry. “What do you think, Zayn?”

Leaves rustled quietly under Zayn's scuffed up trainers as he walked over. Taking Louis’s hand, Zayn helped him into a standing position and then held out his other to Harry. Zayn stood silently, with a quirked eyebrow but an otherwise passive expression, until Harry placed his palm in his and allowed himself to be pulled up on to his feet.

Louis grabbed Harry’s other hand with a small smile. Harry gazed into eyes and wondered if the sparkle of the blue was magic, too. Realizing that it was impolite to stare, Harry quickly averted his gaze and focused on the task at hand.

Suddenly he felt a crushing weight surround him; making him feel a little dizzy, a little breathless. Harry gripped Louis’s hand tighter when he felt his feet come off the ground, closed his eyes tightly and tried desperately to suck in a deep breath, but it wouldn’t come. The air around him was closing in, pushing him with so much force it was sure to break his bones. He was dying; they had done some terrible dark magic and he was dying; swirling and spinning and shrinking.  He opened his mouth to scream in terror -

His feet landed with a thud on the ground; Zayn dropped their hands immediately and plopped onto the ground, looking exhausted.

Harry gulped in air and watched as Louis dropped to his knees beside Zayn and rubbed circles against his back. Harry couldn’t hear what Louis was whispering to Zayn, but Zayn nodded, a tiny movement, and Louis seemed placated enough to stand again.

“It takes a lot to move so many people at once,” Louis explained, dusting river mud off his knees. “But he says he’ll be alright. Just needs a minute, probably.”

Harry didn’t really know what to say to that, didn’t really know what to say to any of it, so he settled for nodding. Over Louis’s right shoulder, Harry could see the river moving swiftly against a rocky bank.

He’d been here before many times; it was the perfect spot for skipping rocks and catching toads. It was also a good thirty-minute walk from where Harry had found the boys in the forest.

And it had taken them only a second.

Louis was watching Harry’s face intently. “I can explain it all to you,” he whispered, taking Harry’s hand again when Harry startled. “But, you have to promise you won’t tell anyone. Can we trust you?”

Harry kept his eyes on the river, letting the hum of the water lull him. It occurred to him that he should probably feel frightened. But aside from the moment in which he thought he was suffocating, he’d never felt more comfortable. Safe.

“What would happen if I told?” Louis tried to pull his hand out of Harry’s grasp, fear obvious in his expression. Harry gripped him tighter and shook his head quickly, hurrying to calm him. “I won’t! I swear I won’t. I’m just asking why that’s all. You can trust me.”

Louis eyed him cautiously for a long moment, biting at the corner of his mouth. The sounds of the forest grew louder; the river rushed aggressively down its course, the birds grew agitated and panicked, the soft breeze turned harsh, swirling the leaves at their feet.

“Lou. Breathe,” Zayn said gently from his spot on the ground.

All at once, nature calmed.

Lou blinked. “We would have to leave. We never get to stay anywhere long, and I like this place,” he said with a shrug, obviously trying to use nonchalance to hide the sadness in his tone. “If anyone finds out, we’ll have to leave again. There aren't many people like us, not anymore. If anyone finds out, they’ll come for us. So we’re always moving.”

Harry wasn’t sure of a lot of things, but he knew that whoever these two boys were, and whatever they got up to, he never wanted them to leave.

“Please promise.” Louis’s eyes swam with unshed tears and Harry found himself heartbroken for a boy he’d only just met.

“I promise,” Harry said firmly. He could keep a secret, especially one as important as this. Especially if it meant he got to keep his new friends too.

“You can’t tell your mum,” Louis pointed out. “You can’t tell your friends.”

Harry snorted, forgetting himself for a second. “I don’t have any friends, so.”

Zayn stood up slowly, batting away Louis’s when he tried helping him. He swayed a little on his feet but seemed to be okay. Turning to Harry, brow raised. “And what are we then, chopped liver?”

Louis propped his arm up on Zayn’s shoulder and crossed his feet at the ankle. “Yeah Harold,” he said with a wide smile. “You know, we’re really gonna have to work on your manners.”

 

**_Present_ **

**__**

The air around the cabin is shimmering. It’s a delicate, almost invisible kind of thing. The snow, feet deep and fresh, glitter with it, like it would on a sunny day. To be honest, Harry is probably only able to spot it because of years of practice. All those years of practice also mean he doesn’t have to wonder about the source of the glowing energy.

   Louis is happy.

   The cabin is sweltering when Harry shoulders in through the front door. There’s a fire in the hearth, larger than the one he’d built before going out into the snow that morning. It heats the room to an almost unreasonable degree, making steam fog up the windows.  Louis must be in the kitchen, judging by the banging noises coming from behind the swinging door.

But Harry stands frozen just inside the front door, with his boots dripping melted snow all over the hardwood. Because inside the hearth, in the living room of their home, is what Harry genuinely suspects is a dragon egg.

“Louis!”

The banging stops, but there’s no answer.

The connection between Harry’s brain and his legs is still not working, but his eyes still work, and they swing over to the hearth again when the egg gives a twitch. He’s going to kill Louis.

“Louis,” Harry growls, ripping his jacket and scarf off and throwing them into a heap on the floor.

The kitchen door swings open as Louis strolls out, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Harry.”

A log shifts down, dimming the fire, and distracting Harry from the overwhelming urge to choke the look of defiance right off Louis’s face. He crosses the room, leaving wet footprints in his wake and ignoring the heat of Louis’s stare.

The egg’s golden scales glitter beautifully in the heat of the flames. Harry guesses it’s probably about the same size as a pineapple. And most definitely a dragon’s egg.

Harry drags a hand over his face roughly. “Louis,” he groans.

“We really need to reconsider our friendship if you’ve forgotten all words beside my name.”

Harry levels him with an unimpressed look. Leave it to Louis to act like Harry is being ridiculous when Louis has brought home a literal dragon.

Another log shift and the fire is nearly out now. Louis sighs and shuffles over, plopping down on the couch and looking up into Harry’s narrowed eyes.

“It wouldn’t have made it, Harry.” He’s using his soft voice, his Harry voice, really. And it’s not sweet, it’s manipulative. And there’s a reason he only uses it on Harry.

Jesus Christ.

“I’m in the middle of a huge project, Louis,” Harry reminds him, turning to face the fire. “I’ve got CO inspections in a month and half a kitchen still unfinished. I can’t spend all my time helping you with this.”

Louis shifts on the couch; the cushions rustle beneath him. He doesn’t deny the implication that Harry is always forced to be a part of Louis’s schemes. He’s manipulative but he’s not a liar. “Zayn will be back soon.”

And isn’t that how it always is? Zayn goes off to play his songs wherever the spirit moves him and comes sweeping back just in time to support Louis’s recent crazy idea.

Harry’s eyes drift over the decor on the mantel. His grandmother’s clock, aged and delicate, ticks along steadily.

“And what about your writing, then,” Harry asks, grasping at straws. “Your editor will be furious if you don’t get the next manuscript in on time.”

Louis scoffs. “I could write for 15 minutes every day and still be done with my manuscript a month early.”

Harry drags his hand over his face again, dropping his eyes back to the egg.  He knows where Louis got it. The same place he got the other two. Where the traders keep dumping them in the snow, either because they won’t bring in enough money or to thwart the authorities. This one will probably meet the same fate as the last two. Too damaged from being carelessly tossed aside, or from the freezing temperatures, it will never hatch. And Louis will be devastated. Harry can’t deal with that again; it’s best to nip this in the bud. Demand he take it outside. Put his foot down. Say enough is enough and mean it this time. He should try seeing if Niall will help talk some sense into him this time.

 “The fire is too low.” Is what he says instead.

He might not be facing Louis, but he still knows he’s wearing the same smile he always gets when he’s won.

** 

Just because Louis won the battle, doesn’t mean Harry’s going to give up on the war.

“Why are you not doing this in the craft room,” Harry grumbles, scraping hot glue off the surface of the coffee table and frowning at the discoloration it leaves behind. “You bitched at me for weeks to make you not one, but two tables for that room, and you’re sitting here ruining this one?”

Tongue trapped between his teeth, Louis carefully nudges a crystal along the glass jar in his hand, sucking his finger into his mouth when the glue burns him.

“I hate when you call it a craft room, I’m not a 90-year-old woman.These are for potions, not potpourri,” he mumbles. “There’s no fire in that room.”

“I should hope not,” Harry deadpans.

Louis throws a crystal at his head, not bothering to look up and see if it hits its mark. “I can’t take the egg out of the fire,” he says, holding the jar at arm’s length and examining his work with a look of contemplation. “I want to be with it when it hatches.”

Harry sighs. He knew it would come to this, especially when he’d come down on Tuesday morning and found Louis sleeping on the couch under a hundred blankets instead of in his room. He’s getting too invested again.

“Louis-”

Louis’s eyes snap up, ice cold and narrowed. “Don’t start, Harry.”

He probably thinks he looks intimidating. Which is ridiculous. Kind of.

“I’m not starting anything,” Harry says quietly, trying to be the voice of reason without getting his eyebrows charmed off his face. “I just don’t want you to be let down again.”

Louis picks the glue gun back up, brushing Harry off with a shake of his head. “This one is different.”

Different just like the last one, and the one before that, Harry thinks. Louis’s back stiffens like he hears it anyway. The product of 20 years of codependency.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Louis begins funneling crystal blue liquid into the glass jar. It swirls with golden flecks of color.

“What is that,” Harry asks abruptly, unaccustomed to not being able to identify one of Louis’s potions.

Louis looks up again, cocking a brow in challenge. “Formula.”

So much for not getting too invested.

 

**Past**

**  
**

   The years that makeup Secondary can be an awkward time for anyone. On any given day, one could find himself dealing with bumps on his face, hormone-induced emotional turmoil, and bullying. And that someone is Harry, ‘magical best mate kicking up a fuss’ is added to that list.

With a slam, Harry closed his locker and scanned the area around him. The hallway was packed, teenagers milling about and chatting excitedly, standing on tiptoe to see over each other’s heads. Harry couldn’t see a thing, but he knew with a dark rumble of anxiety in the pit of his stomach, that whatever was going on, Louis was at the center of it.

   He started shouldering through the crowd, wincing apologetically at people who grumbled or gave him a dirty look as he passed. Even at nearly six foot, he couldn’t make out what the commotion was about until he got nearly to the front of the crowd, and what he saw there tripled his anxiety.

   Eyes wild with what Harry easily identified as fury, Louis stood toe to toe with Joe Anderson, of the biggest lads on the footie team. Harry redoubled his efforts to get to through the crowd as Joe said something that Harry couldn’t hear, and Louis’s chest expanded with rage.

What they needed was Zayn, Harry thought desperately, but he was in the art room across the school, which might as well have been miles away for how impossible it would be for Harry to get to him and back in time to stop this.

   And that’s exactly what Harry had to do, stop this, and fast because Louis wasn’t like every other teenage boy. When he was pushed to the limit it wasn’t his tongue that lashed out, it was his magic, bright and burning, made all the more powerful by the way Louis hide it away every day.

   Harry burst into the crowd just as Joe stepped further into Louis’s space with a dark chuckle. “What, am I supposed to be scared of a little fairy with his knickers all in a twist?”

   Louis snarled, pissed beyond words and raised his hand with what everyone would think was the intention to hit Joe. But Harry knew better, and in a blind panic he threw himself between the two boys and slammed Louis bodily into the rows of lockers, blocking him from view.

   The pain of Louis’s magic rocked him to the core. Harry was on the rugby team, he’d been hit harder than most people ever would in their life, and still, he’d gotten up and finished the match. But this? This was different, worse.

Even as Louis gasped and wrenched his hand off Harry’s arm, Harry’s muscles quaked with Louis’s rage. Harry’s mind clouded; his vision grew hazy around the edges, but he remained silent and perfectly still.

   To everyone in the crowd, it had looked like Harry had simply kept them apart, was just holding Louis back. And it had to stay that way; no one could know what Louis was capable of. Even in debilitating pain, Harry fought with everything in him to protect Louis’s secret.

    Joe stomped away muttering something under his breath and the crowd started to dissipate, bored by the lack of action.

   Louis stood glued to the lockers, eyes wide and swimming with remorseful tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching up to touch Harry and then changing his mind at the last second, letting his hand drop down at his side limply. “I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry Haz.”

   “Lou,” Zayn’s called from down the hall, striding towards them quickly. “Fuck, Haz what happened?”

   Harry leaned back into the row of lockers at Zayn’s gentle nudge to the shoulder. He kept his eyes firmly closed, breathing through the pain, but he could feel both of them staring at him.

   “Joe was at me again, trying to push me around. I didn’t mean to,” Louis said, his voice took on a pleading edge. “Harry jumped in between us. There was nothing I could do to stop it.”

   Zayn let out a long breath. “H, I can try and lessen it,” he said gently. “It won’t stop it all together, but it will help with the pain, yeah?”

   Harry wanted to respond but he was worried that if he opened his mouth all that would come out was an agonized scream, so he gave a curt nod instead.

   The cool touch of Zayn’s hand against Harry’s sweaty forehead was all the warning he got before his body was doused in cold. It burned his skin and numbed his fingers, making him shiver violently. He sucked in a shocked breath and bowed off the row of lockers, his head banging hard against the metal. Zayn planted his other hand on Harry’s chest and anchored him back down, held him still while his magic worked.

   Harry felt the cold pull away from his extremities first, rolling back through his veins and towards his center and pulling the pain from before with it until it was gone. He blinked open his eyes, swallowing back a mouthful of blood from biting into his tongue and looked around them.

   Louis was gone.

   Zayn wrapped his arm around Harry and held him close, rocking him until his pulse returned to normal.

   Pulling back, he left one arm around his middle and let Harry lean on him for support. “He’ll come around, H,” he said firmly. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

   The walk home took them longer than usual, even with the pain lessened. Every stride sent a dull ache through Harry’s body. With each step, Harry worried about Louis.

 

   Louis hadn’t come to school for the rest of the week. He hadn’t even spoken to Harry in four days; refused to come to the phone every time Harry called. Zayn told Harry not to worry, that it would pass, but Zayn would probably say that if news of a third world war came over the radio.

On the morning of the fifth day, Harry was fed up.

   He hopped on his bike and rode through the village purposefully, waving to people going about their Saturday morning business. At Louis’s gate, Harry tossed down his bike and jogged up the walkway, only tripping once over his newly acquired mile-long legs.

   He didn’t bother knocking at the front door; years had passed since the time such things were necessary for Harry. He toed off his muddy trainers in the entryway and made his way through the house, pausing at the doorway of the kitchen.

   “Morning, Jay,” he greeted, a little breathless from the ride over.

   Jay turned from the stove with a kind smile. “Hello there, darling boy,” she said, propping her hip against the counter. “How are you?”

   Harry gave her a small shrug. “I’m okay, going up to see Lou.”

   Jay nodded. “Well, I’d be careful dear,” she warned with a sigh. “I think there’s a storm brewing.”

   Harry’s shoulders slumped at the confirmation about Louis’s mood. “I will be.”

   Giving her a silly tip of an imaginary hat, Harry trudged up the stairs to Louis’s bedroom. The door was closed, locked Harry found when he tried the handle, so he rested his head against the wood and closed his eyes.

   “Lou,” he called quietly. “Let me in, yeah?”

   There was no noise or movement from the other side of the door, but the lock on the handle opened with a click. Harry opened the door slowly, stepped into the room, and froze.

   The shades were drawn, and the lights out, darkening the room to almost pitch back. Which could probably be described as normal, teenaged dramatics?

The storm cloud, a gray and purple swirling mass, hovered just below the ceiling, looming over the room, decidedly could not.

   Apparently, Jay wasn’t being metaphorical.

   Thunder rumbled low and dangerously; as Harry stared, a crack of lightning flew from it, reaching towards the floor. The light from it brightened the room for a few seconds and Harry’s eyes fell on Louis; sitting on the floor, surrounded by crystals of different shapes and colors.

   Louis was powerful, Harry had always known that. But seeing that level of magic, it was truly breathtaking. He stood at the door, silent, as Louis lit three candles and illuminated the space in front of him.

   Slowly, Harry walked further into the room and folded his legs underneath himself to sit directly in front of Louis.

   “Hi,” Harry whispered, searching Louis’s face.

   Louis gave him a small smile that failed to reach his eyes. “Hey, Curly.”

   Harry watched Louis drag his fingers over the crystals, rearranging some and simply caressing others. The storm cloud gave a foreboding rumble. “I’ve missed you, Lou.”

   Louis tilted his head and kept his eyes on the crystals, swallowing. “I needed some time,” he said sadly. “I had to figure out what to do.”

   Harry blinked. “To do with what?”

   Louis sighed gently and held the palm of his hand up and to the side. After a second, a wood box floated down from the dresser and landed in his hand. Opening it, he began carefully placing the crystals in the box. “About my magic.”

   Something like panic clawed at Harry. “Louis, your magic is who you are.”

   Louis nodded, raising his eyes to gaze into Harry’s for the first time since he’d come into the room. “Yeah, it is. And I’ve been hiding it away and tamping it down for so long that it feels like I’m going to explode. Everyday Haz, every day feels like I’m fighting for my life. I pray sometimes just to be normal, just to be the same.”

   The heartbreak and desperation in Louis’s voice made Harry ache to hold him, but for the first time in years, he thought maybe it wouldn’t be welcomed. “Lou, you’re not normal. You’re extraordinary.”

   Louis gave him a small smile again. “Always good for the ego, having you around Curly,” he said quietly. “Thanks for that, mate. But, like I said, I had to figure out what to do. I can’t very well go on every day trying to be normal and accidentally hurt the people I love most everytime I slip up.”

Harry fought back his urge to reassure, knowing Louis would just brush it off. “So, what did you decide then?”

The flames of the candles danced wildly as the swirling mass of storm cloud above them built up a breeze that wafted around the room. Harry watched them while waiting for Louis to respond, trying to be patient.

“I’m going to embrace my magic,” Louis said at last, startling Harry a bit. “I’m going to learn every bit about it I can, I’m going to master and control it. It’s going to take a lot of hard work, and a lot of trial and error. But, that’s what I’m going to do. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

Harry fought back tears, grateful for the dim light of the room when Louis took his hand in his. He lost the battle when Louis spoke again, the tone much more gentle. “I’m never going to hurt you again, Harry. I swear it.”

He wanted to tell him. Sitting in his dimly lit room with Louis’s hand in his and his heart in his throat he wanted to tell him that it didn’t matter if he hurt him. That he’d never felt anything like the way he feels when he’s with Louis, and that it’s worth any kind of pain.

But Louis was making a choice, making a point, and taking a stand. It was important to him that Harry listened and be the friend Louis was expecting him to be, that he understood that he was promising to never hurt him again. So Harry nodded and gave his hand a little squeeze.

And when Louis did hurt him, again and again, so deeply Harry thought he might die from it? It wasn’t with his magic, it wasn’t even his fault really, it was Harry’s fault.

Harry’s secret.

 ***

“I knew I forgot something,” Harry said, pouting at his list. “The mangos.”

Louis didn’t bother looking up from his thorough inspection of the cereal boxes. “Why in the world do you need mangos, Harold? If I’d known you were going to be this weird I would never have agreed to be your roommate.”

Harry carefully folded his list up and shoved it in his back pocket. “You’ve known about my weird for ten years now, Lewis. You love my weird.”

Louis snatched a box of Lucky Charms off the shelf and turned to Harry, unimpressed.

“I don’t love anything about you,” Louis said cooly. “In fact, this entire friendship has been a sham through which I have suffered greatly. I only agreed to come to Uni with you so that I could finally get you to sign a life insurance policy before smothering you in your sleep. With my newfound money, I will be starting an organic guacamole business, if you were wondering.”

A woman to the right of Louis froze with a cereal box in her hand and turned slowly to stare at Harry. He ignored her scandalized expression.

If she thought that was a bit much, she’d have been floored by the fact that Louis’s little homicidal declarations had been making Harry’s dick twitch for the better part of ten years now.

“Try not to get stolen or piss off anyone bigger than me,” Harry said blandly. “I’m going to get mangos.  Git.”

Harry made quick work of grabbing the mangos, not bothering to inspect them before tossing them into a bag and tying it up in haste. He didn’t actually think Louis would be kidnapped - they’d probably end up bringing him back in any case - but he did have a propensity for rubbing people the wrong way.

As Harry found his way back to Louis, he realized he’d not been quick enough. Standing between Louis and the cart was a man with blonde-tipped hair, gesturing wildly. Louis didn’t look worried at all, Harry noticed while assessing the situation on the fly, trying to figure out how much damage control needed to be done. But, Louis never really seemed worried anyway, so it wasn’t really a great way to gauge the severity of the situation. Or any situation. Ever.

Upon coming closer to them, Harry realized the other man was Irish. “It’s a crock of fucking bullshit, is what it is,” the stranger said, swinging his hand wide and almost knocking Harry in the face with it. He glanced up at Harry and then away, too consumed in this conversation with Louis. “Irish culture is always being used to promote something, at the expense of the people! Leprechauns to sell cereal, really?”

Louis looked down at the box in his hand with a small frown. He stared at it silently for a minute, thinking. “Well, what do you recommend then?”

“Coco Puffs,” the stranger answered immediately. Like he often stood around in cereal aisles and berated complete strangers about their breakfast food choices. “Or ricicles. I mix them together sometimes.”

Louis turned and set the box on the shelf with a nod. Harry raised his brow when Louis turned Niall around by the shoulders and presented him to Harry. “Harold, this is Niall,” he said with a flourish. “And we are no longer buying Lucky Charms.”

As Harry preferred not eating whole bowls of sugar, he didn’t really care either way. Not that it would have mattered if he had any objections.

Niall gave him a wide smile, shaking his hand. When his eyes fell on the bag in Harry’s other hand, he wrinkled his brow. “What the fuck do ya got mangos for?”

Louis cackled and stretched up on tiptoes for the box of Coco Puffs. “This is the start of a wonderful friendship, Niall. I can tell already. Want to join our movie night tonight?”

Harry almost fell over with shock.

Louis didn’t trust anyone. Only Harry and Zayn. It had been only Harry and Zayn for years. And then, out of the blue, some strange kid walks up to him between the Fruity Pebbles and the Poptarts and Louis wanted to make him his friend?

   “Sure,” Niall answered with a shrug. “You got everything you need, I’ll push the cart?”

   “Yeah,” Louis said with a snort. “Now that Harold has his mangos.”

   And then they were off, strolling down the aisle with the cart, while Harry walked behind them stunned, listening to them chatter about nonsense all the way through the checkout line and to the car.

   Niall had walked, they find out, so there was no issue of leaving his car and apparently he didn’t fear serial killers because he was more than happy to hop right into Harry’s car and drive away with them.

   When they got home, Harry started to relax. Louis has had a good, firm grasp on his magic for years now. Nothing was going to happen while Niall was there, Louis was safe. They were just going to enjoy a movie and make a new friend.

   No big deal.

   “Haz, I want to light the pumpkin candle,” Louis called from the living room of their tiny flat. “Can you bring the matches?”

   Harry furrowed his brow as he walked into the room, armed with a huge bowl of popcorn. Harry would know where the matches were if Louis didn’t keep moving them all the time and forgetting where he put them.

   With a sigh he placed the bowl on the table and turned his back to Louis and Niall on the couch, searching the shelving by the tv for the book of matches.

   “You can’t light it?” Niall asked.

   Harry checked the little china bowl his grandmother gave him. Sometimes Louis liked to put things inside of other things.

   “Calm down, Niall,” Louis said with a laugh. “You’ve got to give him a moment to find things. If you rush him he makes you look yourself, and believe me, that is awful.”

   Niall laughed. Harry rolled his eyes. Louis was a grown man, he should be able to find things for himself. Harry kept looking.

   “No, I mean,” there was a pause during which Harry assumed Niall was making a gesture of some kind. “Like you light it, without the matches.”

   Harry froze. Heart beating wildly in his chest, he stared down at the book of matches in his hands.

   They were under the dictionary. Always the last place you look isn’t it?

   Slowly, Harry turned around and faced Louis, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

Louis looked positively terrified so that probably wasn’t going to work.

   Harry remembered how to speak first. “What do you mean by that Niall?” His muscles twitched with the urge to sit between he and Louis, to bodily block Louis from Niall’s judgment.

   Niall looked between Harry and Louis. The color drained from his face and his eyes widened in horror.

   “Does he,” Niall stammered at Louis. “Does he not know? I thought he knew?”

   Harry took a step forward, then stopped.This couldn't actually be happening. It had to all be a misunderstanding.

   “Does he know what?” Louis whispered.

   Niall glanced at Harry, obviously trying to figure out what to say. He looked back at Louis and searched his face for some kind of clue. After a moment, he cleared his throat nervously.

   “Does he know about your magic?”

   Louis bodily jerked away from Niall, grabbing the side of the couch. Harry slid to the floor in disbelief.

   “How do you know about my magic?” Louis asked, just a touch too loud.

   Niall snorted. Which really wasn’t the appropriate reaction in Harry’s opinion. “My ma was the village healer, mate. I spotted you a mile away.”

   “He’s not a fairy.” It felt important for Harry to point that out.

   Niall and Louis turned to him in unison. “Obviously,” Niall said, in a tone very much like Louis’s whenever he felt Harry had said something extraordinarily stupid. “I’m not an eejit am I?”

   Harry met Louis’s eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment, silently trying to figure out what to do. They’d dealt with a lot together over the years, but this was brand new. Harry saw the instant Louis came to a decision.

   “Alright then,” he said with a decisive little nod and with a swipe of his hand across the air, he lit the candles.

   Niall grabbed the bowl of popcorn of the table and leaned back into the couch cushions, ready for the movie to start.

   Harry took a few deep breaths. Okay, so Niall had found out. Well, actually Niall had known already. Either way, the secret was out and nothing had happened, the world had not ended in a fiery apocalypse.

Three scenes into the move, Niall took another crack at ending Harry’s world.

“So, while I’m making assumptions,” he started abruptly like he’d been thinking about it and it had just fallen out of his mouth, much like the popcorn strewn across his lap. “I guess I should ask if you two are dating or if I’ve missed the mark on that one.”

Harry’s back stiffened so quickly he thought he might have had vertebrae slip out of alignment.

Louis laughed lightly, completely unaffected. The sound physically pained Harry, hurt in his gut like he’d been punched because the idea alone was laughable to Louis but everything to Harry.

“Sorry mate, wrong on that end,” He threw his arm around the back of Harry’s neck causally and dragged him in closer. “I just keep him around to reach the things on top of the fridge. Sometimes I let him call me his best mate.”

Niall scoffed and smiled along with Louis. But, when his eyes fell on Harry’s face, whatever he saw there made his expression waver.

Harry blinked, panicked. Louis released him and turned his attention back to the tv while Niall and Harry stared at each other over his head.

“Huh,” Niall said slowly, watching Harry closely. “Guess I can’t be right all the time.”

That day, Niall earned himself both Louis’s and Harry’s trust.

 

**Present**

**  
**

“Why am I always the last to know everything, Harry?”

Niall's voice startles him so soundly he slips and nearly brains himself on the soap dish. Hand pressed to his pounding heart, Harry rights himself and moves back under the spray of water, rinsing out the conditioner.

“Hello, Niall. Kind of you to join me.” Harry lets the water beat down on his face, not really ready to have this conversation at this hour of the morning. Or in the shower.

“You’ve got a dragon in your living room.”

Oh good, looks like they’re having this conversation whether he likes it or not. There better be coffee brewing in the kitchen.

“I’m willing to bet you have no idea what’s in your living room as you are never in it, or in your own home at all for that matter. And there is a dragon egg in my living room,” Harry corrects. “Zayn doesn’t know yet, either.”

Niall starts snooping through the medicine cabinet, moving aside bottles that clink together noisily.  Harry decides to wash his hair a second time, frustrated all over again.

“Yes,” Niall concedes, “but it is going to be a dragon and -”

“Don’t encourage him, Niall,” Harry says sharply, cutting Niall off. He tosses the shampoo bottle onto the shower floor. “It’s not going to hatch, you and I both know that. He gets these harebrained ideas and then he’s torn apart when it doesn’t work out.”

The comforting, soothing, warm water of the shower turns scalding hot in a split second. With a screech, Harry scrambles out of the spray and yanks open the curtain, pushing his mop of wet hair out of his eyes. Instantly, he sees the reason behind the strange jump in temperature, the magical and furious reason.

 Louis is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, fuming. Of course, he’d been standing there the whole time, why wouldn’t he be, doesn’t everyone hold family meetings in the bathroom?

“Please do go on, Harry,” Louis says, with a deadly sweet smile. “What other kinds of harebrained ideas do I have? I’m so lucky to have you. I’m sure I would just be bumbling around blindly otherwise, bumping off walls.”

Niall snorts, then cringes at the look Harry shoots his way. “Louis, come on,” he tries, but Louis shakes his head, eyes still glued to Harry’s face.

“No, no Niall. Remember, don’t encourage me.” With a last look of contempt, he turns and storms from the bathroom.

Niall tosses Harry a contrite look before hopping down off the sink and following after Louis.

 

After a rushed dry off job that leaves his hair dripping down the back of his shirt, Harry finds them in the living room. Niall is sitting in the middle of the couch, gnawing at the side of his thumb nervously. He doesn’t like any kind of stress or fighting.

Harry rubs his hand through his hair comfortingly as he passes him.

Louis is sitting so close to the fire it looks like he might be contemplating climbing in. He’s got his boots on and his scarf is discarded next to him like he’d planned on storming out and gotten halfway through the process before he’d remembered the egg.

Harry doesn’t bother approaching him. There’s only one solution to the type of anger Louis is displaying now, the type that’s really more hurt than mad, even though he’d never admit to it. So, Harry keeps moving, past the living room and into the kitchen.

Louis doesn’t turn around when Harry comes back out and folds his legs underneath himself to sit next to him. He remains like a statue, eyes trained on the fire, fingers curled into fists, posture perfectly straight. Harry’s back twinges a little in sympathy.

“I brought you some hot chocolate,” Harry says lowly, watching Louis’s face intently for any sign of acknowledgment. He gets it, a small twitch in Louis’s jaw. And it’s not much, but it always takes baby steps with Lou.

He places the mug on his knee, feeling the warmth spread through his threadbare joggers. “Put those little marshmallows in it like you like.”

So quickly Harry would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring so hard, Louis’s eyes drop to the side, eyeing the mug, then dart back to the fire.

Another good sign.

Harry moves a little closer, pressing their arms together, relieved when Louis doesn’t move away. “What I said was shit,” he admits.

Louis gives him a curt nod, a tiny little movement of his head, but doesn’t turn to face him.  His fingers uncurl and relax over his knees, so Harry continues on.

“It’s not an excuse, but I’m tired and worried about you,” Harry says sincerely. “You don’t have harebrained ideas. You’re the smartest person I know.”

Louis turns to him, eyebrow cocked, but not furious like before. Still hurt though, Harry can see, and it twists like a knife in his chest. “Yes.”

Harry blinks, a little lost. “What?”

Louis reaches out and takes the mug of Harry’s knee, peering at him over the top while he blows on it. “Yes, I am the smartest person you know.”

Niall grumbles a little on the couch, probably something about being pretty smart himself.

They ignore him.

Harry leans forward and rests his forehead on Louis’s, a habit they’d developed in primary that just never fell away. “I’m sorry, Lou.”

Lou takes a sip of the hot chocolate, not breaking the touch. “You’re forgiven, Harold.”

Niall lets out a long-suffering sigh and throws himself back against the cushions. “Thank fuck, you know the dramatics aren’t good for the baby.”

Louis whips his head around and stares at the egg like it’s going to start developing cracks across the surface of something.

Harry rolls his eyes at Niall. Great, now they’re going to have to start playing classical music or some shit.  “It’s protected by a shell, Niall. I’m sure it can’t even hear what’s going on.”

Niall sits up with a broad smile. “I meant me, mate.”

Harry makes sure to grab the mug before Louis tackles Niall into the cushions.

 ***

The weather is unseasonably warm, so Harry’s got the windows down in his old truck when he pulls up in the driveway. The first thing he hears is Louis shouting. Which usually wouldn’t be anything other than par for the course, but Louis has been refusing to leave the fireplace any longer than the time it takes to shower, so Harry is surprised.

Hopping down from the truck, he follows the familiar voice around the back of the cabin, where he finds Louis and Zayn and a mountain of bricks.

His first thought is that it could be much worse, which really speaks to what kind of activities Louis and Zayn get up to.

“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten how to open the door. Thought you didn’t want to be away from the egg,” Harry calls out as he approaches, smiling when their heads whip around. “Welcome back, Z.”

Louis smiles smugly, pulling something out of his pocket and brandishing it around in front of Harry’s face.

He grabs his wrist to hold his arm still and get a good look at the object. “A walkie-talkie?”

Zayn laughs at Harry’s confusion. “Yeah, he’s got Niall set up in there.” He nudges his head towards the cabin. “Apparently it’s faster than a phone.”

Louis puts the walkie-talkie back into his pocket and nods. “It is, no dialing.”

Harry shrugs and walks over to the pile of bricks. “And this,” he asks, looking between the Louis and Zayn. “Where did this come from and why is it here?”

“We’re going to build a fire pit, for the dragon,” Louis announces gloved hands on his hips. “One of those big ones, like on that show you watch?”

That only answers one of his questions, but Harry decides to follow this line of thinking before figuring out the rest.

Mostly because it sounds fucking dangerous.

“You can’t build a fire pit this close to the house, Lou.”

He doesn’t need the cabin going up in flames when Louis and Niall start a poorly timed wrestling match next to a raging fire.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yes, Harold, we’ve worked that out ourselves.” He kicks a booted foot at the snow. “But we can’t move them now that they’ve been dropped off.”

There’s really only two contractors around that would have the means to drop off this much stock at once. And there’s really only one contractor who would drop off this much supply to Louis and Zayn without giving Harry a heads up first. As he looks at the huge pile, he plans a very pointed conversation with said contractor.

“They left it on a tarp,” Zayn points out, very obviously trying to steer the conversation somewhere.

Louis nods, blinking innocently. Which never turns out well for Harry. “We figured out how to fasten a rope to it for a handle, but it’s too heavy for us.”

Ah. There it is.

“And how heavy is too heavy?” Harry asks.

“Well, I’m not sure exact-”

“Five hundred pounds,” Zayn says over him, blinking blandly at the face Louis makes at him. Obviously, that’s not at all how they practiced it.

Five hundred pounds. The exact weight Harry used to drag across the gym floor when they were in Uni. The exact weight that Harry had, just earlier that week, heard Zayn betting Louis that Harry would never be able to pull again.

“So you just happened to need five hundred pounds of bricks to build an outside fire pit,” Harry looks between them. “And you just happened to forget to ask the people dropping them off to move them to a safe location.”

“Yup, that’s it.”

“Mhmm, exactly.”

Harry rolls his eyes at them but grabs the rope on tarp anyway. Either he’ll move the bricks across the yard and then head into the house for some stew, or the rope will break off the tarp and he’ll tie the both of them to a tree with it. And then go in the house for some stew. So what the hell?

The rope is thick in his palm and he figures it will hold, so he takes a breath and pulls, smirking when he hears someone - Zayn probably - gasp when the tarp slides forward, moving with Harry as he walks backward. When he gets it far enough away from the house he tosses the rope down and strolls back over to them.

Zayn’s mouth is actually ajar. Harry closes it with a knuckle under his chin and a wink.

Louis positively overcome with self-satisfaction smiles like The Cheshire cat at Zayn.

Harry snorts, ruffling Louis’s hair and dodging the swat he gets in return. “I better get a portion of your winnings.”

He heads into the house and makes himself a bowl of stew.

 

**_Past_ **

   The air in the abandoned classroom was stagnant with disuse and thick with the smell of old pages and chalk dust. Harry took a deep breath and reveled in it, imagined he could actually feel his creativity opening up and unraveling like a blooming flower.

   “Higher ceilings I think,” Harry mused, biting at the corner of his mouth. “It’s less energy efficient but the look is worth it.”

   Zayn nodded and sketched lightly over the blueprint; a faint line formed between his eyebrows as he squinted in concentration. “Alright, what were you saying about fireplaces?”

   “Just one in the living room.” Leaning back, Harry tilted his chair on to its hind legs and huffed out a small laugh. “Having fire inside the house is already tempting fate enough as it is.”

   Zayn smiled, tongue caught between his teeth and sketched in a fireplace. Harry watched him work, letting his imagination bring life to Zayn’s drawings until the door banged open and pulled his attention away.

   Niall stood on the threshold, pink-cheeked and wearing a jumper that was about two sizes too big for him. Probably Harry’s, then.

   “Been looking for you two for ages,” Niall complained, bounding through the door and plopping down in the chair next to Zayn. “Louis’s got two more exams and he’s positively ignoring me. I’m bored out of my skull.”

   “Your class ended ten minutes ago,” Zayn pointed out, glancing at Niall, thoroughly unimpressed. “What about the kitchen, H. At the back?”

   Harry nodded. “Yeah, I want windows floor to ceiling along the back wall, so I can see through to the land behind.”

   Zayn started sketching again and Niall leaned forward on his elbows, scrutinizing the work spread out across the table. “What are you working on?” he asked with a tilt of his head. “I thought all over your classes were done, Harold?”

   Harry took a second to thank his lucky stars that Niall was right and that he was, in fact, finished with his courses. The only thing that stood between him and his degree was two weeks and one short walk across a stage. He’d worked his ass off, and he was proud, and so very ready to be done with it all and get his hands on some real work.

   “We’re finally getting around to drawing up prints for the cabins I’m going to build,” Harry explained. “Now that Great Aunt Gertrude’s will has been settled for real this time and the land has been left to me, I figure now is a good a time as any to start.”

   Zayn stood up abruptly. The other men watched as he circled the table, looking at the blueprint from different angles and making small noises of displeasure.

   He did that sometimes. Louis called it weird, hippy, art shit. Harry called it eclectic. None of them tried to figure it out.

   “I only see three cabins,” Niall said with his eyes on the blueprints and decidedly not on Harry.

   Harry sighed, not at all in the mood to have the conversation Niall was angling for. Zayn dragged a chair away from the table and stood on it, staring down at the drawings with his hands on his hips. Harry watched him, only a little nervous.

   “Yeah. There’s only three,” he said after a moment, trying to make his voice as stern as possible so as to thwart any argument. “We’ll put yours and Zayn’s across from each other, you can wave to each other from your respective tubs.”

   Niall snorted, stretching out a completely unnecessary hand to steady Zayn while he climbed down from the chair. “While I don’t want to seem ungrateful, because I’m not and I’m overjoyed to be living near you lads, I would like to point out that there are actually four of us.”

   “Again,” Zayn said, scrubbing furiously at their work with a small pink eraser. When no one answered him, he looked up at Niall and held his gaze steadily. “You’re pointing that out again? That’s the fourth time now, bro.”

   Niall crossed his arms over his chest, irritated by being called out. “Okay fine, you don’t want to talk about the cabins. I get it. Let’s talk about something else.”

   His tone was a little more clipped than usual but not so much so that Harry couldn’t wave it off and pretend he didn’t notice. “How do you think you did on your exams?”

   “It was great. A breeze, a cake walk even. I’m sure I did wonderfully,” Niall said, arms still crossed. “How was your date with Jessica?”

   Zayn let out a long-suffering sigh that Harry really understood on a deep level. Lately, every conversation with Niall was going this way, around in a circle starting and ending with Louis.

   “I thought we were going to talk about something different, Niall.” Niall’s expression was starting to really piss him off so he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Jessica’s a wonderful girl and just because I’m not in love with her doesn’t mean something is wrong with me,” Harry says.

   Zayn got up again and paces the length of the table. He smelled like an earthy mixture of chalk and tobacco, familiar and comforting. Reminded Harry of the woods and his childhood. Harry took a deep breath, letting the scent fill his lungs, willing himself to relax and not snap at Niall they way his temper is telling him to.

   “She’s a wonderful girl, but she’s not Louis,” Niall said. Harry could feel his eyes boring into his face but he doesn’t look down. “Because if she were Louis, you’d want to live with her.”

   Harry scrubbed his hand over his face in exasperation. “Louis and I are going to live together, Niall. Deal with it.” He kicked at Niall’s chair gently enough to annoy him but not with enough force to send him sprawling across the floor like he really wanted to. “We live together now, I don’t see what the big deal is.”

   “Uni is different, isn’t it,” Niall argued. “Everyone lives together. This is different, this is grown up shit, Harry. This is commitment.”

   Harry rolled his eyes. “We’ve been best friends since I was eight years old, Niall. He wants to live with me, I want to live with him. Yeah, we’re codependent. But, Zayn knows your class schedule off the top of his head and you bring Louis tea every morning before you even have some yourself. Glass houses, mate.”

   Zayn nodded his head, pencil moving constantly in short lines across the sketch. Niall glared at him.

“I make Louis tea because he’s my best mate and I like to have breakfast with him. Zayn knows my class schedule because he’s some kind of weird genius and he likes to sneak up on me and force me to sit for his paintings,” Niall said, counting off on his fingers with raised eyebrows, his go-to making a point face. “You have dated a handful of people in the four years I’ve known you, none of them more than twice. You want to live with Louis because you’re in love with him.”

Harry forced his face to remain passive, but his stomach dropped to his toes. Zayn sat back slowly, staring at the pencil in his fingertips while he twirled it around. Niall stared at Harry resolutely, waiting.

Harry turned and looked out the window, collecting himself. When he spoke, his tone was nonchalant. “He’s my best mate, of course, I love him. Just like I love you, and Zayn. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“It’s not the same and you know it,” Niall said, voice hushed and gentle. A chair creaked under shifting weight, Harry didn’t turn to see if it was Niall or Zayn. “You’ve got to talk to him, Harry. What if he-”

Harry snapped his head around and stared at Niall with wide eyes, angry disbelief colored his voice. “Tell him what Niall? Tell my best mate I’ve been in love with him for years, probably since the very first moment I met him? Is that what I should do? Make him feel awkward and obligated? Make him feel like he’s got to walk on eggshells around me for fear of breaking my fucking heart?”

“You don’t know-”

Harry shoved away from the table, towering over it. “You think you know him better than I do?”

Niall flinched at Harry’s tone but kept his eyes on his. “I didn’t say that, Haz.”

The air around Harry pressed in softly like a caress, Zayn trying to soothe him. Harry took a breath. “Things are fine how they are. I’d rather have him in my life as a friend than nothing at all, and I can’t risk him leaving if I told him. It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to carry that information around.”

Niall shook his head and opened his mouth to argue back, but Zayn took his hand and squeezed. “Let it be, bro. Everything will work out, yeah?”

Niall’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded. “Alright, yeah. Sorry for butting in, H. I just want you to be happy.”

Harry sat back down, still feeling the effects of Zayn’s magic. “I am happy. You have to know that.”

Niall sat silently, watching Harry’s face, after a moment he turned to Zayn. “Do you know what would make me happy?”

Zayn smiled, scrunching his nose. “Guinness, a new set of golf clubs, Coco Puffs, that dark-haired girl who just started working in the library..”

Harry snorted, making Zayn giggle. Niall nodded agreeably. “Well, yes. But also, an indoor pool.”

   Harry kicked the chair out from under him for real.

 

**_Present_ **

Like most days, Harry is up, dressed, and in the kitchen before the sun has risen. While usually, he’s comfortable moving through the cabin in his wool work socks and thick sweaters, Louis has not given up on the egg, despite it being two weeks now, and the fire is still raging in the hearth.

Armed with his thermos of coffee and dripping sweat a little along his neck, he goes to the front door and shoves his feet into his boots. He tugs on his jacket and pulls open the door, pausing to glance back at Louis’s sleeping form. The sight of him wrapped up in blankets despite the warmth in the room and breathing deeply does something to Harry, makes him feel something like longing. With a sigh, he dismisses it and walks through the door and out into the cold. Prepared for a long day of work.

The truck is like an icebox. Harry breath comes out in little puffs of white smoke as he cranks the engine and rubs his hands together, cursing himself for not wearing gloves. He’s been meaning to get an automatic starter, so he doesn’t have to spend 15 minutes every morning freezing his balls off, but it’s hard to justify spending money on something like that when he could simply get up earlier and turn on the truck himself. One of these days he’ll actually get around to doing that.

Only a handful of seconds later, he’s fiddling with the radio when the temperature in the truck suddenly ticks up and the air around him is toasty and warm. The engine kicks up a notch and hums steadily, ready to go. Harry snaps his eyes up just in time to see Louis’s face, sleep soft and a little grumpy, retreating from the window and the curtain swinging down over the glass again.

Harry smiles, fond and not worried about hiding it in the privacy of the truck.  “Thanks, love.”

He spends most of his day on site, overseeing workers at a huge cabin that an out of town couple had commissioned him to build. He’d been excited at the time, eager to make the couple’s dream come true and add to his portfolio. But, he’d had to call in a contractor for some of the work, the tiling and windows, things he didn’t specialize in.  The one he’d decided on turned out to be a complete disaster.

The first week, while clearing space in the bathroom to complete the tile floor, they’d broken the antique claw foot tub. The second week, they’d installed the upstairs windows incorrectly and then broke one while trying to fix the blunder. Today, Harry had arrived on site to find a dozen men staring at a gaping hole in the wall of the kitchen that had most definitely not been there the day before.

It dawns on him while he’s driving away from the site for the day and heading into town, that his whole life seems to revolve around putting out fires, and yet his best mate is currently sitting at home tending one.

It fits them, really.

Although the sun is going back down, and his back is sore from a long day’s work, he’s made a few commitments that he’s got to stick to before he can head back to the cabin. Mrs. Jones, a sweet old lady with far too many cats has a clogged sink. Annie, the single mom who lives right down the street from the market, seems to be dealing with leak above her kitchen. And Doctor Addison can’t get his front door to shut flush to the frame anymore. It will all add a few more hours to his day, but it goes against everything in Harry’s being to just leave people without help.

Hopefully, if he sweet talks him a little, Louis will be willing to ease the pain in his lower back.

Magic. Useful that.

As predicted, by the time Harry rumbles up the drive to the cabin, it’s as dark as it was when he left. There’s a chill set in his bones now, from the snow that's seeped into his boots and the exhaustion. The blast of sweltering heat he’s met with as soon as he opens the front door is welcome.

Louis’s in the same spot he’d been in when he’d left as well. But there's a mess of potions and labels on the table. Harry counts two more bodies under blankets, Niall and Zayn he presumes.

Resigning himself to the fact that he’s going to have to sleep with no magical aid for his backache, Harry kicks off his boots and makes his way to the shower. He hopes against all hope that the hot water will relax his muscles enough to let him sleep.

It feels like he’s only been sleeping for minutes when he’s being shaken awake roughly. It’s Louis, he knows immediately, because who else would it be? He grumbles grouchily, wraps his arms around Louis’s smaller frame and rolls him under his body. Which always works, gets him to settle into the plush blankets and cuddle.

Except for this time.

Louis starts shoving at his chest harder, grunting with the effort. “Get up you big oaf, get up, get up, get up!”

Harry furrows his brow and rolls off. “Why are you torturing me,” he asks around a yawn.

Louis scrambles up and yanks the blankets down the bed, ignoring Harry’s efforts to grab it back.

“Get up,” Louis screeches again, verging on hysteria. “Harry, you need to get the fuck up right now or I swear to God-”

Harry sits up and shakes Louis shoulders hard, cutting him off. “What the fuck is going on?”

Louis stills, blue eyes widened in panic and chest heaving. Harry counts to 12 in his head before Louis figures out how to speak again. “The egg is hatching.”

Harry blinks. “What?”

Louis swallows. His skin is a terrifying shade of white. “The egg,” he whispers, reaching up and circling his hands around Harry’s wrists. Anchoring himself. “It’s hatching.”

All at once, Harry snaps out of it. He jumps out of bed and bounds to the dresser, where he yanks out a pair of joggers and shoves them on. When he gets to the door, he looks back and finds Louis still kneeling on the bed, frozen.

Harry takes three longs strides across the room and grabs hold of Louis’ wrist, yanking him off the bed. He gets his feet out and on the floor in time, but just barely, and he doesn’t show any signs that he’s going to follow after Harry. So Harry just bends down, tosses him over his shoulder, and strides out of the room.

About halfway between Harry’s bedroom and the living room, Louis’s panic subsides and he starts pounding on Harry’s back. “Let me down, let me down!”

He’s sprinting away from Harry as soon as his feet hit the ground, and Harry watches in disbelief as he leaps over the back of the couch like it’s nothing on the way to the fireplace.

Louis’s the most athletically inclined person he’s ever met and the worst part is Harry is almost positive it doesn’t have a thing to do with magic. The man can leap clean over Harry’s head for God’s sake.

Zayn is on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and staring at the fire fearfully. Niall sat on the floor right in front of the hearth, has the exact same look on his face. Obviously, none of them have any experience with dragon home births.

As Harry approaches the fireplace, Zayn abandons the couch slowly and shuffles close to him. They all kneel down, shoulders pressed close together, and peer into the fire. Louis paces behind them, rubbing a hand over his face roughly.

For the first time in weeks, the fire is burning low, but that seems to be the only change. Harry thinks for a moment that Louis might have dreamt that the egg was hatching when the golden scales of the egg give a shimmer and the fire glows blue. It’s over in the blink of an eye. One second it’s shimmering, the next it’s still and the fire is back to normal.

Harry whips his head around in search of Louis and smacks his nose into Niall’s forehead in the process. “Louis,” Harry says, rubbing his nose gingerly. “How long has it been doing this?”

Louis throws up his hands and makes a crazed face like Harry’s just thought up the ridiculous question in history and asked it at the most inopportune time. “Don’t know, do I? I was sleeping. I told them we should sleep in shifts but no one listens to me. Not one single person in this whole house listens to me and now I’ve got no idea. Maybe if everyone didn't care more about eating than any-”

Niall’s cheeks turn pink and he opens his mouth angrily, so Harry cuts Louis off before they have to deal with a dragon and an angry Irishman.

“What do the books say about it?” he asks loudly. Louis flounders for a moment so Harry gentles his tone. “You’ve read them back to front a hundred times, love, just think for a second.”

Louis runs a hand through his hair and then takes a step closer to them. “They say to let nature take its course, but that when the scales start to break away to hold it.”

Harry furrows his brow and looks to the fire and then to Zayn, who just shrugs his shoulders. Great help, that.

“Lou, it’s gonna be hot,” Harry points out.

Niall scoots closer to the fire and shakes his head. The flames burn blue again and cast the glow against his skin. “No, I don’t think it will be. Not for Louis at least.” He looks up and shrugs again. “The blue flames aren't hot, and it stopped shimmering until Louis came back. Like it’s waiting for him.”

Louis starts pacing again. “Haz, why did you let me do this,” he laments. “I don’t have the type of personality it takes to watch after something. I’m a mess, look at me!”

Harry is ready to point out that Louis has been watching Harry for twenty years when with a small crack, the gold shell breaks off and drops into the fire. The flames burst up in a blue frenzy, reaching towards the top of the fireplace and blowing their hair back. But, Niall was right, there’s no real heat in them.

Louis moves forward with purpose, all panic forgotten as he simply reaches over Niall’s head and picks up the egg, cupping the flames around it like water. They swirl in his hand, licking against the scales of the egg and defying every law of gravity there is.

As the other three boys look on in shock, Louis folds his legs under himself and sits on the carpet, with the egg in his lap. As if it had been waiting for Louis, the scales start falling away rapidly one after another, leaving a circle of gold around Louis on the floor.

It takes maybe five minutes, during which time the fire remains blue, Niall doesn’t breathe once, and Zayn and Harry clutch each other’s hands so tightly their knuckles turn white. And then suddenly the flames disappear and in the palm of Louis’s hand is a dragon.

The tiny scaled body shimmers gold, just like the egg. It’s got four little-clawed feet and very delicate looking wings. Harry’s heart clenches when it looks up into Louis’s face and then curls up in a ball and tucks himself into Louis’s palm, rubbing its head against his thumb.

Louis raises his eyes slowly and locks eyes with Harry. He’s positively glowing, pride and happiness radiating off him so obviously Harry thinks if he put his hand out he could probably feel the heat come off Louis’s skin. His blue eyes shimmer a little -happy tears probably. Maybe a little overwhelmed.

Harry’s limbs move on their own accord, moving him across the small space between them on his hands and knees until he’s kneeling directly in front of Louis.

“I did it,” Louis whispers, voice full of awe. “Look at him.”

Harry nods, his face breaking into a huge smile and his heart swelling. “Yeah, you did. You did it.”

Louis glances down at the dragon in his hand and then snaps his head back up, a surprised laugh bubbling up and out of his mouth. Harry snorts in response and that only gets Louis to laugh again, louder, more joyous.

Harry tips their foreheads together, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“Alright then, lads,” Niall announces as he clambers up from the floor. “Time for a celebration.”

He heads into the kitchen and a couple minutes later he comes out, arms laden with beer.

“No champagne, but I figure this is good enough, yeah?”

Zayn takes the bottle Niall hands him and nods his head with a smile. “Yeah, it’s the thought that counts anyway, innit?”

   They drink too much beer and laugh for far too long and fall asleep right where they are, together and in a heap on the living room floor.

 

***

They named the dragon Millis; a shortened version of the Gaelic endearment ‘my sweet’ that Niall called him often. The first two weeks with Millis passed far more easily than any of them had expected.

Well any of them besides Louis.

He’d explained, almost word for word from his memory of the books he’d read while Millis was still just an egg, that the first two weeks were always going to be the easiest as most of the time would be spent with the dragon eating or sleeping. And that was true; Millis spent much of his time curled up in a tiny ball in front of the fireplace or drinking from a dropper in the palm of Louis’s hand. But Louis had also said that it would get harder once he was able to stay awake for longer periods of time.

And that? That was very true.

By Harry’s estimation, Louis hasn’t slept for more than an hour in the past two days. Millis was still eating well, and still loved to be in front of the fire, but he would not sleep. Nor would he let Louis out of his sight. If he so much as thought about walking out of the room, Millis let out a screeching cry. And while the books did warn of separation anxiety, none of them seemed to have any ideas on how to fix the issue.

   “How much would I have to pay you to get you to crack me over the head with that pan and end my suffering?”

   Harry looked up from the scrambled eggs, a Saturday morning delicacy, with a soft smile. “Been trying to do it for years, you’re too quick. Nap was a no go?”

   Louis uses one arm to perch himself up on the counter, the other holding a squirming Millis in the crook of his elbow. He’d grown pretty rapidly, almost the size of a puppy now and about 15 pounds.  “Not a chance,” Louis confirms with a shake of his head. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and his hair is sticking up in all directions like he’d tried pulling it out. “Even with him on my chest, he isn’t satisfied.”

   Shaking his head in sympathy, Harry turns on the kettle and opens the cupboard in search of Louis’s favorite tea. “Do you want me to try holding him again?”

   Louis looks at Harry’s bandaged hand wrapped around the teacup raises his brow. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, love. That was enough blood for one day, yeah?”

   When Harry had woken up early that morning to find Louis pacing the living room, exhaustion clear on his face, they’d tried having Harry hold Millis for a bit.

   That didn’t work out so well. But, at least they were sure Millis would be able to bite himself out of any situation if need be.

   Harry winces and nods. He plates the eggs and hands Louis a fork, relieved that even if he can’t help him sleep he can help him stay nourished.

   Louis takes the fork gratefully and twists around on the counter so he can eat. “Thanks, Haz. You’re a lifesaver.”

   “I know, I wrote a letter to the Pope. Everyone should call me Saint Harry from now on. Earned it, I think,” Harry says cheekily, dancing away from Louis’s kicked out foot.

   “I take it back, you’re actually a giant prat.”

   Harry starts cleaning up the kitchen and cackles. “No take backs!”

   Louis shakes his head and starts eating. They lapse into a comfortable silence, save for Millis chirping every once in a while. Harry gets into scrubbing out the oven, a song tumbling from his lips lowly.

   He doesn’t realize that Louis is frozen until he gets to the second verse.

   “Keep singing,” Louis whisper-shouts, fork hand frozen halfway to the plate. Millis is sleeping, nuzzled into Louis’s neck. And Louis looks like he is very close to crying.

   Harry blinks in surprise and then freezes when Millis starts stirring, huge eyes moving below his thin lids.

   “Haz,” Louis growls quietly, widening his eyes threateningly.

   Harry gets through three Beatles songs while Louis eats his breakfast.

   “Come on Lou, let's go into the living room and sit on the couch,” Harry whispers, holding the swinging door open and waiting for Louis to pass through in front of him.

   While they shuffle together over to the couch, Harry pulls out his phone from his back pocket and sends a text to Niall.

   _Need a favor, mate._

   Half an hour later, Louis is sleeping soundly against Harry's chest with Millis in his lap. Niall returns from the living room with a bottle of water for Harry and puts another record on the machine and presses record.

   “Alright, Haz. Let’s do another.”

   When Harry presents the records to Louis in the morning, explaining they were full of his voice covering various lullabies, Louis nearly knocks him down with the force of jumping into his arms.

 

***

 

Louis is naked.

   Well, the top of half of his body is anyway. But, he’s sitting in Harry’s bathtub full of bubbles, so it stands to reason that the rest of him is naked too.

   “What are you doing,” Harry asks, working hard to get the words out before his throat closes up entirely.

   Louis startles slightly, blinking his eyes open and bringing his head up from where it was laid against the cool porcelain. “Taking a bath, Harold.”

   Harry’s not 18 anymore, the sight of Louis bare-chested and flushed a little from hot water lapping against his skin doesn’t short-circuit his brain. It doesn’t.

   “You’re naked.” Okay, maybe it slows it down a bit.

   Louis, predictably, rolls his eyes. Harry fights the urge to warn him they’ll get that stuck that way. “Yes, Harry, who takes a bath with their clothes on?”

   Harry takes a steadying breath. And then another. This is fine. Everything is fine.

He realizes with a start, that he’s just been standing in the doorway, silently staring at Louis for much longer than can be considered socially acceptable. Reminding himself again that he is a grown man, in his own home that he built with his bare hands for heaven’s sake, Harry strides over to the sink and perches his hip on it nonchalantly.

See. Fine.

Louis doesn’t bear witness to Harry’s near meltdown over this naked skin, as his eyes have slipped close again and he’s slid down a little further into the bubbles. The picture of relaxation.

Harry picks up the half empty bottle of bubble bath and inspects the label. It’s something in French, so definitely not something he’d bought. Niall maybe. Zayn probably. “Why are you taking a bath in my tub instead of yours?”

“Yours is better.” Louis likes to use this tone that means he’s done talking about something. Like all of their conversations don’t just go on and on forever, pausing at some points and then randomly picking right back up, days, months, years, later. Just yesterday they’d argued over a footie game Harry had won in the sixth form.

“They’re the same,” Harry reminds him calmly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You picked them out with me. I got two of the exact same tub.”

“They’re not.”

“They are.”

Water sloshes over the side of the tub and laps around its claw feet, puddling on the white tile floor as Louis sits up forcefully and glares at Harry. “This tub is at least three inches wider and I don’t have the bubbles that you have.”

The dimensions are the same. The exact same.

“So why didn’t you take the bubbles into your bathroom?” Harry asks, rather reasonably, he thinks.

Louis blinks. “Harold,” Louis says slowly, carefully. “When you were eight years old, who shared their peanut butter and fluff sandwich with you every single day?”

“You,” Harry answers immediately.

“And for the entirety of your year 9, whose footie boots did you use?”

“Yours.” There’s a point looming on the horizon, Harry can tell, he’s just not sure if it’s dangerous or not.

“Second year of Uni, whose entire drama paper did you rewrite and hand in for an A?”

“Yours.”

Louis smiles like he’s proud of Harry for remembering. “That’s very good, Harry,” he says in a sweet tone of voice. “So can you give me any good reason why you are right now, during the only ten minutes of peace and quiet I have had in weeks, standing here bothering me about borrowing your bathtub?”

   Harry can’t actually. The only reason he can come up with is he feels like his heart is going to rabbit up and right out of his chest at the sight of water clinging to Louis’s skin and he can’t just say that, can he? Ruin fifteen years of friendship over a bubble bath?

   “I was just asking,” Harry says in a little voice.

   Louis huffs and slips his eyes closed again, tipping his head back against the porcelain and putting his jawline on display. Harry’s hands clench into fists on their own accord.

   “Well stop asking,” Louis says grumpily.

   Harry shoves off from the sink and strides out of the bathroom, almost positive Louis gives his retreating figure the finger. Millis is laying by the fire when Harry gets in the living room and he raises his head in greeting.

   Harry huffs as he slumps down on the couch. “It’s the same tub,” he grumbles.

   Apparently, Millis has learned to roll his eyes. It figures.

 

***

   Harry is trying to fix a leaky pipe under the kitchen sink when Zayn appears next to the oven with a resounding crack.

   Harry sighs, cranking his wrench tightly against the joint of the elbow. It’s been years now, but Zayn still seems unable to comprehend normal human practices.

   Like using the front door.

   “What are you doing,” Zayn asks, sounding nearly bored to death. Harry’s pretty sure he does that on purpose to get under his skin.

   “I’m fixing a pipe that I’ve got no doubt either you or Louis broke somehow.” The putty doesn’t look like it’s going to hold for long, so Harry slides out from under the sink and rummages through his toolbox for his soldering equipment.

   “Should I call a professional?”

   Harry rolls his eyes. “I am a professional.”

   Zayn hops up on the counter gracefully and taps his feet against the cabinets noisily. Millis is asleep, if Zayn wakes him up Louis will be murderous. Harry doesn’t warn him.

   “A more professional professional, then.”

   Maybe if Harry makes some chocolate cake he can sweet talk Louis into charming Zayn’s toilet seat again.

   “Is there something that you need, Zayn?” Harry attaches two copper pipes at their fittings and turns on the blowtorch, looking up at Zayn over the blue flame. “Have you just come to bother me?”

   “Came to warn ya,” Zayn says over the noise of the torch. He doesn’t continue or clarify or anything,  because he’s a fucking dick.

   Or probably because he’s not eaten and it makes him insufferable.

   Harry finishes molding the pipes together and tosses the torch and gloves to the side. “I made chicken salad last night,” Harry says, sliding back under the sink. “It’s in the fridge in the blue dish.”

   Harry doesn’t get a response, but he hears the telltale signs of a drawer opening and metal hitting china as he finishes up with the pipe. When he slides out from under the sink for the last time, he finds Zayn sat cross-legged on the counter, eating.

   “Do you remember that guy I hooked up with a couple years ago,” he asks Harry around his next bite. “The one with the piercing?”

   Harry nods but keeps his eyes on his toolbox, carefully cleaning up his mess. “Yeah, Tim was it? Or Todd?”

   “Tony,” Zayn corrects.

   Harry snaps his fingers and looks up at Zayn. “That’s it, Tony. What about him?”

   Zayn takes another bite and doesn’t answer for a while. Harry keeps cleaning up, unperturbed. It’s always much quieter in the room with just the two of them.

   “We keep in touch,” Zayn says, shrugging when Harry levels him with a surprised look. “Nothing serious, just a friendly text every once in awhile, yeah. Well, he works at the government office now and he gave me a little heads up.”

   Harry sprays down the floor with cleaner. “Yeah, what’s that some kind of sex thing?”

   Zayn groans. “No, you arse. An actual heads up. They know about Millis. Apparently, they keep track of this kind of thing. So they’re going to be sending someone to make sure you’re not some kind of trader or gonna skin him alive or whatever.”

   Harry looks up from the floor. “Someone who?”

   The spoon makes a loud noise when Zayn drops it into the bowl. “An animal welfare someone. Since dragons are endangered and all that.”

   Harry sighs. Louis is not very keen on strangers, for obvious reasons. This is going to be interesting.

   “When is he or she coming, then?” Harry asks, slowly climbing up from the floor.

   “Next week, Tony said. Wednesday.”

   Alright. That’s not so bad. Gives everyone time to prepare.

   “Will you be here,” Harry asks. Two secretly magical beings in one place may sound like a worse idea. But, Harry might need back up.

   Zayn smiles. “Where else would I be?” And with another crack, he’s gone.

 

   A quick search ends with Harry finding Louis out back with Millis. He’s grown quite a bit, Millis. As Harry crosses the yard towards them, he estimates Millis is probably closer to 50 pounds than 40, and at least the size of a medium dog. He’s standing near Louis, watching him chop wood for the fireplace. When they hear Harry approaching, Louis looks up with a warm smile and Millis stretches his wings happily.

   When he’s close enough, Harry reaches out and tugs at the end of Louis’s unraveled scarf. “Are you warm enough?”

   Louis lodges the axe into the base log and wraps his scarf around his neck properly. “I was fucking freezing when I got out here,” he admits. “But I’m sweating now. I’m almost done anyway.”

   Harry nods, watching Millis rut around in the snow. Millis likes the fire the most but doesn’t seem to be too perturbed by the cold either. Which is good, because he’s so attached to Louis he probably wouldn’t consent to be left inside without him for any length of time.

   “Zayn came to talk to me while I was fixing the sink,” Harry says, turning his gaze back to Louis.

   “He’s lying. I didn’t do it,” Louis says without a second's hesitation. “I told him you always say not to pour potions down the drain. He doesn’t listen. I think we should kick him out of our friend group.”

   Harry contemplates tossing Louis into the snow, but that would start a snow fight that would require at least an hour of time and a fresh pair of jeans. So, he lets it go.

   “He has some inside guy at the government office,” Harry explains, watching Louis’s body language intently. “He got a tip that they’re coming on Wednesday to do an animal welfare check on Millis.”

   Louis’s back stiffens. Harry watches him process the information and waits.

   “Who will it be,” he asks tightly, “Someone from the village, do we know them?”

   Harry shakes his head. “No, well. I don’t know. I just know they are coming on Wednesday. That’s all the information Zayn had.”

   Nodding, Louis picks up the axe and places another log upright, ready to be split. Just before he swings, he lets the axe drop to the ground and his shoulders slump forward.

   Harry instantly moves forward and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Hey, it will be alright.”

   Louis shoves him off, dipping his shoulders and sliding out of his grasp. He takes off his gloves and shoves them in his back pocket, looking everywhere but at Harry.

   “I’m fine,” he grumbles. “You don’t have to treat me like a baby all the time.”

   Ten years ago, Harry would have bristled, risen to the unintentional bait. Now, he just sighs. “Not treating you like a baby, just trying to here for you.”

   Louis busies himself with stacking logs into his arms, still not meeting Harry’s eye.

   “There’s nothing to be here for, I’m fine.”

   Hands in the pockets of his hoodie, Harry watches him walk into the house, staggering under the weight of one too many logs, with Millis running circles around him all the way in.

   Dinner that night is quiet. Millis sticks close to Louis, fluttering his wings nervously in reaction to the unhappy energy he can feel coming from him. Harry moves around his mashed potatoes on his plate sullenly, beating back the instinct to comfort Louis about a hundred times before he finally gives in and drops his plate on to the floor, letting Millis lick it clean. Hours later, he slips into an uneasy sleep and dreams of strangers with no faces.

 

***

   Wakefulness comes over Harry all at once, swiftly and instantly. There’s a feeling deep in his chest, like a weight pushing at him from the inside. It’s not painful, or scary, but it's persistent. Wrapped up in his duvet, Harry rubs at it, staring at the ceiling, deciding it’s what had woken him. There’s no strange light in the room, he can’t hear anything besides his own breathing. There’s just the feeling, weighing on him, making him feel stuck.

Trapped.

   His brain’s operating a little slower than usual, due to being just ripped out of slumber, but it’s that thought that kicks it into gear and he realizes what’s happening. With a sigh, he tosses off the duvet and slides out of the bed, not bothering with his slippers.

   The rest of the cabin seems to still be bathed in darkness. From the hall, he can see into the living room. The fire is lit but burning low; Millis is curled up, a big gold ball, in front of the fireplace on a quilt Niall’s mum sent them last month. Harry walks quietly, careful not to wake him.

   The kitchen door is slightly ajar, a sliver of dim yellow light shining through. Intermittently, so fast you’d miss it if you blinked, a flash of blue and green light mixes with the yellow. Harry shoulders in through the door, rubbing the sleep from his eye.

Louis is sitting with his back to the kitchen door, and moonlight streams in through the windows above the sink and bathes half of his face in warm light. In front of Louis at the table are six glowing orbs of light. Three green and three blue, the size and shape of marbles, spinning around each other like Louis’s own personal solar system.

He must know that Harry’s come in, but he makes no move to acknowledge him. Harry drags a chair out and joins him silently.

Neither of them takes their eyes off the orbs when Louis speaks. “Didn't think I was making any noise.”

The orb closest to Harry, baby blue swirled with navy, stops spinning and changes the direction it rotates. “Didn’t hear you, I don’t think,” Harry says, voice rough with disuse. He rubs at his chest and glances up, finds Louis already looking at him with a frown. “Felt you.”

Louis drops his eyes back to the orbs. Harry pretends he doesn’t see the way Louis’s hand balls up into a fist on the table. “Sorry, didn’t mean to project. I’ll be more careful.”

There’s no universe in which Louis will accept Harry telling him that it’s okay, that he doesn’t mind feeling what Louis is feeling. But there’s nothing else for Harry to say, nothing else is the truth. So, they lapse into silence as the orbs spin.

   The kitchen is chilly, always the coldest room in the house due to the wall of windows.  When one of the green orbs passes closer to Louis’s arm, Harry notices goosebumps. He glances under the table, as imperceptibly as he can, and notes that Louis only has on boxers with his thin t-shirt.

   “You’re cold.”

   Louis blinks at the orbs. “Always cold.”

   “Come here.”

   The energy in the room shifts a little, Louis bristling at being ordered around. But, he doesn’t argue. He also doesn’t move.

   “Lou, I said come here.”

   The orbs slow, but brighten. Louis’s eyes flash in their light. “I’ve got perfect hearing.”

   Harry’s jaw ticks. “Stop being stubborn and come here, you’ve already woken me up, the least you can do is not be a dick for the next twenty minutes or so.”

   It’s a dirty move, a guilt trip if there ever was one, but Harry doesn’t bother feeling guilty about using it, especially when Louis sucks in air between his teeth and gets up. He doesn’t stomp over, but Harry can tell he wants to, only holds back because it might wake Millis.

   Crossing his arms over his chest, he stands next to Harry’s chair and glares at him. “What do you want?”

   It’s late, Harry’s tired, his muscles are sore from a long week of work, and Louis is obviously distressed. So Harry doesn’t bother trying to coax him. With a yank to Louis’s wrist, he pulls him down into his lap and tucks Louis’s head under his chin.

   Louis knew it was coming, so he doesn’t shriek in surprise. But he fights it, kicking his legs and trying to pinch any bit of skin he can reach. He doesn’t stop until Harry’s got his wrists held firmly enough to bruise and they’re both breathing like they’ve run a marathon.

   Harry holds him tightly to his chest, listening to the way his breathing slows. When Louis’s back slowly relaxes, Harry loosens his grip on his wrists, but keeps them trapped, rubbing against the soft skin on the inside of his wrist with the pads of his thumbs.

“Do you want to talk about it,” Harry asks, letting the words be somewhat muffled by Louis’s hair. He’ll understand.

Louis stiffens, not struggling with Harry, but maybe with himself a bit. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Harry drops his head so he can whisper into Louis’s ear, let it feel like a secret. “It’s not silly, Lou.”

It’s several minutes before Louis speaks again. “Here with you is the only place that’s ever felt like home. We had to leave so many times, leave so much behind when we were kids, me and Zayn. It feels like they’re coming again, like we’ll have to leave in the night, hide our trail and disappear.”

Harry wouldn’t ever let someone force Louis from their home. And Zayn would burn the world for him in a minute.  Louis knows that. But it’s not logical what he’s feeling, fear very rarely is.

“How can I make you feel better?”

Louis sighs, leaning further into Harry’s embrace. “Already have. This helps, just needed to say it I guess. And maybe be held a little.”

Harry smiles and they lapse into a comfortable silence. Until Harry shifts in the chair a little and his back protests.

   “Your back hurts,” Louis whispers.  It’s not a question, but Harry nods anyway. “I haven’t helped you in weeks, I’m sorry.”

   Harry shrugs and winces a little. It’s like now that Louis’s pointed it out, the pain has risen right to the surface. “You’ve been a little busy.”

   “I’m a terrible housewife, aren’t I,” Louis asks, turning one of his wrists gently in Harry’s hand until he lets go. He wraps his hand around Harry and slides his hand up under his shirt on his lower back, pressing into his skin firmly.

   “Not everyone is suited for it,” Harry agrees sagely, sagging in relief when Louis starts to pull the pain away. It drags from each muscle bit by bit, magnetized to the spot under Louis’s hand. “That’s alright though, you’ve got your redeeming qualities.”

   Louis laughs softly, head resting on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m glad you think so, prat.”

   Drawing his hand away from Harry’s back slowly, Louis pulls the pain out of his back and leans back to hold his hand in front of them. Swirling in the palm of his hand is a red orb, more solid than the others and a bit larger, it spins slowly. He deposits it on the table, where it floats in one spot. Later, he’ll toss it in the fire. Its energy, he’d once explained to Harry, just like everything else. Energy has to be transferred, has to be put somewhere else.

   When he settles back against his chest, Harry reaches up with his free hand and traces the line of Louis’s jaw, studies his face. The feeling in his chest has eased, and the orbs are back to spinning gently, glowing dimly. Holding him, grounding him, always works, even though Louis fights it until he can’t anymore.

   Louis tips his head back and closes his eyes, peaceful. Harry watches him, reaches up with his free hand and traces the line of Louis’s jaw.

   “Never let anything happen to you, I hope you know,” Harry whispers. He knows he’s allowed to now, while Louis is open, unguarded.

   Louis doesn’t respond and his eyes stay closed. Harry sits with him in his lap for a few more minutes and then shifts him around so he can stand with him in his arms safely. As he walks them down the hall, Louis shifts in his arms again, getting as close as he can.

   Harry tucks him into his bed, pulling the duvet up to his chin and brushing his soft hair off of his forehead. In a moment of weakness, he leans down and brushes his lips over his forehead, just a second.

   “Haz,” Louis calls quietly, voice like smoke, stopping Harry in his tracks at the door. “I know.”

 

   When Harry shuffles into the kitchen on Wednesday morning, it’s apparent that Louis has already been awake for hours. Sitting at the kitchen table with four cups of tea, all at various degrees of empty, and dark circles under his eyes, he looks a wreck. But, it seems like just a normal level of anxiety, a little buzz under the surface, so Harry doesn’t wrestle him into his lap again. Instead, Harry makes french toast and prepares a fresh cup of tea. By his second serving of buttery, sugar bread, doused in maple syrup, Louis seems okay.

They spend the morning lounging around the living room with Milis. He’s got a new affinity for finding shiny things, so Louis keeps hiding coins around the room and letting him search for them like an Easter Egg hunt.

They’re on their fourth round of the game when the doorbell rings.

   Louis stiffens but puts on a brave face while calmly coaxing Milis to lay by the fire. They’d been practicing that, ever since Niall came through the front door a couple days prior and Milis had very nearly flattened him in excitement.

   Harry takes a deep breath and walks to the door. With a glance back to make sure Louis is ready, he swings it open.

   On the other side is a man the same height as Harry with kind brown eyes and an even kinder smile. Looking at him, Harry feels instantly at ease.

   “Hello, my name’s Liam. I’m with the animal welfare division,” he says in a chipper tone of voice. He’s got a large brown briefcase gripped in his hand and a soft looking scarf wrapped around his neck. Combined it makes for a comfortable but professional look.

   Harry smiles and motions him inside. “Hello, Liam. I’m Harry.” Just inside the door, he motions to the couch. “That’s Louis, we’re roommates here.”

   Liam smiles and holds out a hand to Louis politely. Louis stands and takes Liam’s hand, smiling back, albeit it a little stiffy. “Nice to meet you, mate.”

   At the touch of their hands, nothing happens. No snow, or fire, or anyone turning purple. When Louis visibly relaxes, Harry fights the urge to say I told you so.

   Harry moves to the cushion next to Louis and sits, motioning for Liam to do the same on the couch facing them. Liam sets his briefcase on the floor and faces them with a little nod, looking like he’s ready to start a well-practiced speech when a loud crack from in the kitchen stops him.  

   Louis tenses again, but before Harry can reassure him somehow or really react at all, Zayn is strolling through the kitchen door with a sheepish look on his face.

   “I broke a dish,” Zayn says, batting his eyelashes at Harry. “Sorry.”

   Harry doesn’t know why he’s surprised by the smooth lie.  Zayn’s been hiding his magic for years. He’s a pro.

   “No matter, I’ll clean it up later,” Harry says with a wave of his hand. “Zayn, this is Liam.”

   Harry turns back to Liam, expecting more of the calm and polite behavior from before. What he finds instead is Liam staring unabashedly at Zayn with his mouth dropped open.

Oh. Harry’s not sure why he’s surprised by that either.

As Zayn makes his way across the room and sits in the love seat on the other end of the coffee table, Liam tracks his movement with slow blinking eyes. It’s not until Zayn cocks his head to the side and gives him a knowing smile, that Liam clears his throat and gets ahold of himself.

“Oh. Hello, I mean. It’s very nice to meet you,” Liam takes a deep breath, probably trying to be discreet about it, and smiles his warm smile. “Do you live here, too?”

Zayn tilts his head side to side, contemplatively. “I don’t live here in the house, no,” he says. “I’ve got a cabin right next door, on the same land. But, I don’t really live there either. I’m a bit of a wanderer, me.”

Liam, enthralled, nods along while Zayn speaks and then continues staring at him like he’s just made some kind of earth-shattering speech. Harry and Louis exchange a look on the couch and Liam must notice because he startles a little and clears his throat yet again.

“Do you need a drink of water or something, mate,” Louis asks with a smirk. An opportunity to take the piss out of someone always surpasses nerves for Louis.

Liam blushes a little and turns to Harry, who he probably senses is the safest bet as far as sensibilities go. “Right, well. As I said I’m here for an animal welfare check.” Shifting on the couch, Liam turns his attention to Milis who blinks his large dark eyes at him curiously. “I’ve got to say, this is the best-behaved dragon I’ve ever encountered.”

Pride radiates off Louis so obviously, Harry thinks he could probably see it if they shut off the lights, like static electricity. “He’s a very good boy, our Milis” Louis says with a nod. “I’ve never had a dragon before but I read loads of books when I..when I found him.”

It’s Harry’s turn to tense. While having a dragon isn’t illegal, trading is, punishable by jail time. Traders almost always get eggs by nefarious means - killing dragons, stealing from nests, breaking into sanctuaries. Louis didn’t get Milis from a trader, but they really only have his word to prove that.

But, Liam doesn’t seem to be looking for any proof. “Yes,” he says with a sigh and a sad shake of his head. “We’ve been alerted to a large number of eggs being discarded in these types of areas, heavily wooded and lowly populated. Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do besides try and rescue those left and make sure those who find homes are properly taken care of.”

Millis stretches his wings and curls back up, tucking his head. He’s had enough of this boring conversation, it seems. Liam turns back to Harry and Louis.

“So, our main concerns are that firstly, caregivers are well informed and secondly, the home has enough space for the dragon to grow and live comfortably,” Liam says in what Harry decides is his professional voice.

Louis scoots forward on his seat, rubbing the palms of his hands along his thighs. “Well, I don’t know what you mean by well informed exactly. But I did read a ton of books like I said. I could show you?”

Liam agrees so Louis hops up and strides from the room, leaving them in a comfortable silence for a few moments. During which time, Harry watches Liam sneak glances at Zayn as discreetly as possible.  

Zayn cocks a brow. “You’ve the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen Liam, has anyone ever told you?”

Liam preens so clearly Harry thinks Liam might start to melt at any moment. But, besides his blushing cheeks, there’s no time for him to respond to Zayn's compliment before Louis staggers back in the room under the weight of a dozen books. They make a loud thump when he drops them down on the coffee table.

“That's all of them,” Louis declares, plopping back down on the couch and looking at Liam expectedly.

“Oh,” Liam says, blinking in surprise. “And you read all of these?”

Louis nods and leans forward shuffling the books around and laying them out so the covers can be seen more easily. “This one I read twice actually, it’s pretty helpful for stuff that happens first couple months after hatching - sleep schedules, milestones, separation anxiety - that kind of stuff. This one I read three and half times, it’s all about the history of dragons and such which I figure is pretty important for me to know, cause you know if you don’t know history you’re bound to repeat it and all that,”

Sliding out another book from the pile he crinkles his nose in distaste. “This one was right boring, and if I’m honest I think I could have done without it because it’s mostly just a combination of what all these other books say. But, like I said I wanted to be up and up on what was happening, so I got all these. And then this one is strictly scientific, really, like the evolution of the wing and the membrane just behind the cornea that allows dragons to see at night, which is actually pretty similar to cows but stronger obviously...”

Louis trails off, looking up at the other boys and blushing deeply. “I, uh. Sorry, guess I’m rambling a bit.”

“Not rambling,” Harry reassures him gently, with a little shake of his head. “Just well informed.”

Zayn snorts. “It was kind of rambling, mate.”

Louis narrows his eyes at Zayn, but before things can get way off track, Liam claps his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. He seems to already have a feel for the dynamic of the group, and an innate ability to rein them in, which is fairly impressive.

“Well, I’m more than confident that you are well informed. How about you show me what kind of outdoor space you have set up for Milis here, and then I think I’ll be out of your hair.”

Harry and Louis stand in unison, but Louis waves Harry back. “No I’ve got it, we’re just going to the backyard.” He quickly glances at Zayn and then back to Harry, widening his eyes for a millisecond. “You can tell Zayn about that project you were telling me about this morning.”

As Louis leads Liam through the house and to the backyard, Zayn stares at Harry, waiting. Harry leans back into the couch and waits until he hears the click of the back door closing before throwing a book in Zayn's general direction.

“You can not have casual sex with the animal welfare bloke,” Harry hisses, batting away the book when Zayn sends it flying back towards his head without so much as lifting a finger.

“I never said I was going to have casual sex with Liam,” Zayn responds calmly.

Harry thinks about throwing another book. “You don’t have to say it, I’ve known you for more than ten years. If you aren’t going to have casual sex with him, why are you saying his name like that?”

“Normal people don’t refer to people by their job title, Harry,” Zayn says condescendingly.

Right. Because that’s what he meant. “It’s not the fact that you’re saying his name, it’s the way you’re saying his name.” Harry jabs his finger at Zayn accusingly. “Like you’re, I don’t know, trying to it out. Seeing how it tastes.”

“You’re a right pervert, Harold. Who knew?”

Harry grabs another book, but Louis’s voice comes floating back in from the back of the cabin and Harry drops it with a thud, glaring at Zayn.

“It’s actually 10 acres,” Louis explains to Liam as they walk into the room. “Harry’s great aunt owned it, used it for farming. There was nothing here until Harry built the cabins actually.”

Liam nods along, cheeks a little pink from being in the cold. “Well, it’s perfect that’s for sure. This little guy will have plenty of room to grow.”

Harry and Zayn stand when Liam grabs his briefcase and they shake his hand before he heads for the door. Louis walks him out, chatting with him comfortably about Milis and thanking him for coming.

As soon as the lock on the door is secured, Louis spins around and crosses his arms over his chest. “Did you tell him, Harry?”

Harry sits back down on the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, wiggling his toes. “I did.”

Louis stomps into the room and stops just in front of Zayn’s chair, glaring at him. “Tell him again, just for good measure.”

“You can’t sleep with Liam,” Harry says dutifully, smirking at Zayn from behind Louis’s back.

“That’s right,” Louis seethes, poking Zayn in the chest. “You can not sleep with Liam. I will charm your balls to the wall do no try me Malik. Come on Milis, let’s go outside for a bit.”

With one last death glare in Zayn's direction, Louis leaves the room for the kitchen, his dragon shadow trotting closely behind.

Harry doesn’t look up in time to block a book from smacking him square in the head.

 ***

   Spring rolls over their village with little warning. One day the air is frigid and unforgiving, and the next cherry blossoms bloom on the tree in the front yard and grass pops up lush and green, replacing the blanket of white that laid on their front garden for months.

Harry can’t remember ever feeling more grateful for the birth of a new season. This year, it brings an end to an unforgiving winter of snow plowing, long hours, and frozen extremities.

Finally, Harry gets a Saturday free from fixing a frozen pipe or shoveling out an elderly neighbors driveway. He’d planned to spend it sleeping well past noon. But, after waking up at seven and glaring at the ceiling for at least 20 minutes, he gives up on the notion altogether.

   He walks through the cabin in bare feet, breathing in the fresh air that wafts through the windows Louis had thrown open the instant it was warm enough. Through the kitchen windows, he spots Louis and Milis at the vegetable garden.

This winter had been tough on Louis as well. Being cooped up and away from nature always seemed to leave him a little lackluster, a little dull. He’s been spending every available moment outdoors, soaking up the sunshine.

Slipping on a pair of old trainers, Harry walks through the back door and across the grass, watching Milis hopping around at the bottom of an oak tree near the garden. He’s stopped growing taller it seems, but grows steadily broader with each passing day. Harry blows him a kiss when he looks up and wiggles his tail at the sight of him.

   Louis, kneeling in the grass with dark dirt caked up to his elbows, looks over at Harry with a smile when he plops down next to him. “Thought you were going to have a lie in?”

   “Wasn’t in the cards it seems.” Harry lays on his back and closes his eyes, letting the warm sun wash over his face. “What are you planting?”

   “Carrots and snap peas,” Louis responds, sounding like he’s turned his attention back to turning the earth. “Milis seems to have an affinity for them.”

   Harry snorts. “Lucky that, seeing as you refuse to eat them no matter how I prepare them.”

   “We can’t all eat like rabbits, Harold.”

   Apparently, anything other than cocoa puffs, crisps, and cheese toasties is considered rabbit food.

   “I don’t think I’m ever going to get up from this spot,” Harry muses. “I think I’ll live the rest of my life here. Will you look after me?”

   “Absolutely not,” Louis sniffs. Something cool and wet hits Harry’s face. Probably a handful of dirt. Harry leaves it. “I’m not your slave and you’ll kill all the grass in that spot.”

   Milis squeaks, and Harry sits up, brushing the dirt away from his eyes, and watches as Milis climbs up the oak tree.

   “Are all dragons that good at climbing or is our child gifted and talented?”

   Louis turns and watches him climb, dragging his arm over his forehead to push back his hair and fend off the sweat. “Of course he’s gifted and talented. But, climbing is something most young dragons are good at. Until they can fly, then they don’t bother with it I guess.”

   Chin rested on his knee, Harry waits for Milis to start making a terrible racket and flapping his wings wildly. It’s how he conveys that he’s done being up high and would like to be taken down, a direct order for Harry to come get him. He’s been doing it for weeks now since he first climbed up on top of the china cabinet and realized he had no idea how to get back down.

   A robin lands next to him on the branch and bounces around, chirping happily. Milis watches it, with a curious tilt of his head. When it flies away, Harry pulls himself to his feet and starts to walk over.

He stops in his tracks, mouth gaping when instead of flapping his wings indignantly, Milis stretches them wide and soars out of the tree.

   “Uh. Lou,” Harry chokes out, eyes locked on the dragon circling the top of the oak tree.

   Louis hums a little in acknowledgment but doesn’t look up from the seed packets he’s sorting into piles.

   “Lou, I think you should see this,” Harry tries again, a little more urgently.

   This time Louis does look up. He turns to Harry with an annoyed look on his face, “I swear to God Harry if you’ve got your finger sticking out of your fly again-”

   Harry shakes his head violently and points up. Louis furrows his brow in confusion and follows Harry’s line of sight. “Holy shit.”

   Louis scrambles up to this feet, tossing the spade to the ground and stumbles forward, staring at Millis in the sky. “He’s flying,” he says, voice full of awe.

   Harry can relate. “Yeah, he is.”

   Louis lets out a surprised laugh, a giggle really, as he spins on the spot. Millis hears him and circles lower. Showing off a bit, Harry thinks with a smile.

   His wings create a breeze that whips around them as Millis moves. Harry watches it blow through Louis’s hair, lifting it off his forehead. His blue eyes twinkle with a combination of joy and amazement as he watches the dragon soar. Harry’s fingers twitch against his sides with the urge to run his fingers along Louis’s cheeks, feeling the heat there behind the excited blush.

   Suddenly, Millis lets out a happy cry and swoops down low, twisting twice in the air before angling up and shooting up towards the cloud at an alarming speed. Louis whoops and, overcome with excitement, bounds towards Harry and leaps in his arms.

   Harry catches him easily and hauls his legs up around his waist.

   “I can’t believe it,” Louis shouts, breathless and so so happy.

   Harry smiles back and holds him tighter. The joy is practically vibrating off his body in waves; it might actually be, now that he thinks of it. Louis is so comfortable and safe and happy that he’s letting his walls fall down and letting his magic swirl around them.

   Harry’s heart drums in his chest almost painfully. Louis is so close, he can feel his breath on his face and his warmth through his shirt. He smells likes earth and morning tea, intoxicating.  It would be so easy to let his hand slip up and cup the back of Louis’s head, tip him back and kiss him breathless, taste the tea on his tongue. So easy to lay him down in the new grass and press their bodies together until it’s impossible to tell where one of them starts and the other begins.

   Millis shrieks again and Harry remembers himself with a start. Louis is staring at him curiously, the same bright smile on his face but with a furrowed brow now. In a blind panic, Harry drops him like he’s been burned.

   Louis hits the ground with a thump, completely surprised and a little pissed. “What the fuck was that for!”

   Harry starts backing away towards the house quickly, stumbling over his feet and glancing over his shoulder. “A pot,” he yelps, shaking his head to try and clear it and get an actual sentence out. “I left a pot on the stove. Got to get it. A - uh. I left a pot in the kitchen.”

   He almost cries in relief when the backs of his knees hit the porch steps. Louis hasn’t moved from the ground, he’s frozen staring at Harry like he’s lost his mind. Millis lands next to Louis and tilts his head at Harry, trying to figure out what’s going on.

   Inside, Harry scrambles to the bathroom and closes the door, throwing the lock behind him. He splashes cold water on his face and grips the sides of the sink, willing his heart to return to its normal rate.

   It’s fine. Everything is fine. It had been a momentary lapse in self-control brought on by an exciting turn of events.

   Everything is fine.

 ***

   It’s funny how time affects memories. It has been years now that Harry’s been keeping a little box inside his soul, full of his feelings for Louis, all folded up neatly and tucked down deep.  He’d gotten used to the dull ache they make in his gut; he’d forgotten how they burn sharp and hot when they’re exposed to the light. It’s torture, emotionally and physically, being back in this place. Being so aware that he loves Louis with every fiber of his being, it’s torture. It’s so much worse when they are in close proximity.

Louis gives him two days of space.

   “Are you avoiding me,” he accuses, catching him while he’s leaving for work.  Louis’s never up this early so the fact that he is, and is also making full, sensical sentences, means he’d gotten up early for the express purpose of boxing Harry into a corner.

   Panic slithers in alongside the pain and takes hold, wrapping around Harry’s throat and squeezing. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

   Louis' eyebrows shoot up, he stands up from the couch slowly and faces Harry with his hands hanging at his sides, his feet spread wide. “That’s not a no.”

   Of course, it’s not a no, because saying no would be lying and Harry doesn’t lie to Louis. He probably can’t even lie to him, he’s never tried so he’s not sure. Pretending not to love him with every waking breath doesn’t count.

   “I’m going to the work site.” His keys are cold pressed up against his sweaty palm. He shakes them around a little. Anxious.

   “That’s still not a no,” Louis points out lowly. “And you’re going in an hour early.”

   Not at this rate he’s not. If Harry doesn’t figure out a way to put a stop this conversation it could go very wrong very quickly. Very wrong could take anywhere from 20 minutes to three hours to sort out.

   “I’ve got to get this project done,” Harry says, still being truthful, just creatively so. “Maybe I’ll be home early and I can make that soup you like.”

   It’s an out, a bribe really, and Louis knows it. His brow furrows while he decides if he wants to let it go or not.

   When he plops back down on the sofa with a shrug of his shoulders Harry lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Okay, see you later then.”

   Harry retreats, trying to act as normally as possible and failing miserably.

   That afternoon, when he should be heading out to get home early, he finds a leaky pipe that could use some attention. Later, when everyone’s heading home for the day, a patch of unsanded drywall catches his eye. It goes like that until he looks at his watch and finds it’s closer to midnight than it is to quitting time.

   When he gets home, he sneaks past Louis’s sleeping form on the couch and tiptoes to his room, ignoring the vicious little voice in his head that whispers coward.

 

   For the next week, Harry wakes up earlier than usual and leaves while Louis is still sleeping, and comes home long past dinner time. He hasn’t spoken to Louis since he stopped him before work that day, hasn’t even seen him with his eyes open. He’s not proud of what he’s doing. He just needs some time to get a hold of his feelings again. His mask slipped and he just needs a second to get it readjusted.

   

One week turns into two solid weeks of avoiding Louis like the plague. It’s so different from how they’ve been living for the past decade that Harry feels ill most of the time and ashamed the rest of the time.

Harry assumes Louis is affected as well. He’s not seen him in any state other than asleep in weeks, but the cabin is practically pristine. There’s no notebook paper covered in doodles and half-formed ideas crumbled up and tossed around the couch, no potion bottles partially covered in gems and hot glue littering the kitchen table. Louis hasn’t been creating, magically or otherwise, and that’s never a good sign.

   The weather for the past couple weeks has been mirroring the energy in the cabin. Louis can’t change the weather, not for long distances and stretches of time anyway, but it still feels like Harry’s being punished every time he runs through the freezing rain from the front door to the truck. He probably deserves it.

Rain has been coming down by the bucketload all day. It creates the worst kind of job site, muddy and dangerous. Being forced to work inside and wet socks make for sour-tempered workers, quick to snap at each other or worse. Harry had been happy to see the crew pack up for the evening.

He’s bone tired, but he’ll be working for another hour or so probably, and it’s nice to be able to do it in peace.  He’s only just gotten his supplies out for replacing some boards on the porch when Niall’s truck rumbles into the drive.

   Under the cover of the front porch, Harry watches Niall jump down from the truck and jog up the walk.

   “And to what do I owe the pleasure?” Harry calls out when Niall is close enough to hear him over the rain pounding on the tin roof.

   Niall hops up the steps and pulls him into a quick hug before backing away and leaning against the porch railing. Something about his body language has Harry tensing.

   “Just, uh, wanted to see ya before you got home,” Niall says, all nonchalance.

Something is definitely going on.

   Harry drags a rag out of his back pocket and dabs at his forehead, soaking up sweat or rain, he’s fucked if he even knows at this point. “Kind of late in the day for that,  isn’t it?”

   Niall’s eyes dart away from Harry’s face and then back again. Harry’s stomach ties up in knots. Something very not good is going on.

   “Well, it’s not like you are really keeping regular hours anymore.” It’s not an accusation, and it’s the truth. But it still feels like a slap in the face and Harry finds himself without a response.

“Just been missing you is all,” Niall says quietly. “Haven’t seen you around much.”

Niall’s a meddler by nature. He can’t help it, as far as Harry can tell. They all love him anyway, but sometimes it's really fucking annoying.

   Harry closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’ve got to get this project done.”

   “Sure, sure,” Niall agrees to placate. “Massive job, this one.”

   It is a massive job actually; it's a very important accomplishment to be able to put in his portfolio. But, Niall isn’t here to chat about the job and Harry’s patience is too thin to stand around and listen to Niall pussyfoot around the issue.

   He’s about to tell him just that when Niall speaks up again. “Well, surely you’re hungry. What do you say we head into town for a bit and grab something to eat for dinner?”

   Harry’s first instinct is to take him up on the offer; he’s not eaten since somewhere around 11 am and he’s worked up an appetite between wrangling his crew and hanging drywall. But, that nasty little voice comes back with a vengeance. Avoiding Louis to work seems acceptable, avoiding Louis and hanging out with Niall? Not so much.

   “Nah, not tonight,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “I’ve got another hour here at least. Don’t want you waiting around for me.”

   Niall shrugs in the easy way he does just about everything. “Alright, rain check then.”

   “Yeah, rain check.”

   Harry watches him run back through the rain to his truck and pull out of the gravel drive. He’s got his phone to his ear, but that's really the only thing Harry can make out through the fat droplets of rain pounding Niall’s windshield.

   The niggling feeling that something bad is happening is still harassing Harry, but he beats it back and focuses on the porch. It’s always better to deal with problems you can fix with your own two hands.

 

Unsurprisingly, when Harry gets home a little over an hour later, it’s to the sight of every light on. It’s a battle he lost years ago, much like many others. He’d had the sense to install solar panels when building the cabins, so it’s not like it’s the end of the world. But Harry still grumbles to himself as he makes it up the walk and in through the front door.

Also unsurprising is the fact that there’s no sign of the Milis and Louis. Louis had given up on trying to figure out the reason behind Harry’s behavior and started ignoring Harry right back. If the energy in the cabin was any more frigid, you’d be able to spit in your hand and come up with an ice cube.

Grimacing, Harry kicks off his sodden boats and rolls up the bottom of his jeans. His first order of business is going to be a shower, maybe a bath, nice and hot. He’ll wash away this day and then when he’s calm and finally chased this chill away, he’ll sit Louis down and maybe he’ll find a way to explain away his odd behavior so that he can be around Louis for more than five minutes at a time.

He makes it down the hall and almost past Louis’s room when a movement from inside catches his attention and he glances in. What he sees has his heart shuttering to a stop and his blood running cold.

“What are you doing?”

Sat on the edge of the bed, Louis’s shoulders hunch defensively, a move he probably isn’t even aware of. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor; his knuckles are white where he’s gripping the handle of the luggage between his knees.  When he speaks, his voice is quiet but steady. “I’m trying to work up the nerve to leave.”

It feels like the walls are caving in, like in one of those old movies. Harry feels like he’s the star and he’s been trapped in a room with walls that are slowly pressing together. Any minute now he’ll be crushed to death.

“You can’t leave.”

Flashing with irritation, Louis’s eyes snap up to meet his. “I can do whatever the fuck I want,” he snaps. “I sure as fuck can’t stay here.”

Harry was wrong, he’s not being crushed. He’s drowning. His eyes fly around the room, looking for something, anything to grab a hold of so he can keep his head above water.

“That’s my suitcase, you can’t leave me and take my suitcase,” Harry insists, sounding desperate even to himself.

Louis sighs. “We aren’t fighting about the suitcase, Harry. You don’t even like this one.”

They are. They are fighting about the suitcase because the only alternative Harry can see is Louis getting up and walking out and that can’t fucking happen. The panic he’s feeling starts to manifest as rage; a defense mechanism probably.

“Don’t tell me what I do or don’t like,” he shouts, startling Louis as much as he startles himself. “It’s my fucking suitcase, you prick.”

Mouth gaping, Louis stares at Harry in disbelief. With a slow shake of his head, he stands from the bed and starts walking towards the door, intending to walk right past Harry.

“You know what, thank you for making this decision so much easier for me, H.” He says it calmly, coldly.

It makes the panic claw at Harry’s chest because if this were a normal fight, Louis would be screaming, fighting, scratching. This response is like nothing Harry’s ever seen before, but he knows instinctively it’s very bad.

He reaches out and grabs Louis’s arm roughly and hauls him up on to his toes. He’s reacting without thinking first and he pays for it in spades. Louis’s magic lashes out at him, burning his fingers so that he curses and drops Louis’s arm before stumbling back against the wall. Millis crows loudly and scurries off the bed, fleeing the room in terror.

Breathing harshly, Harry stares at Louis through narrowed eyes.

Louis couldn’t possibly look any less unapologetic. “Keep your fucking hands off me,” he sneers, tipping his chin up and looking down his nose at him.

He moves to follow after Millis and Harry pushes off the wall to stand in his way, gritting his teeth against the pain in his hand.

Louis’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really, you after another round?”

Once, Niall and Louis had worked together to hide every pair of Harry’s boxers in various places throughout the house. He’d had to go to work commando that day and had ripped his pants halfway up a ladder. He’s still never wanted to grab Louis’s around the neck and throttle him more than this moment.

“Where are you even going to go?” Harry’s nearly shouting again, but he couldn’t really fucking care less. “Are you going to flounce out of here, dramatic as ever, and what? Just walk over to Niall’s?”

At his side, Louis’s right hand twitches like he’s thinking about throwing his magic out again, but he rolls his eyes like he’s unaffected. “Let me go, Harry.”

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Harry challenges, taking another step forward and crowding into his space. Louis doesn’t back down; he’s probably never backed down in his life. “Are you going to attack me again?”

Louis snorts condescendingly. “And I’m the dramatic one? I’m not attacking you, I’m defending myself. You don’t own me, you can’t order me around and put your hands all over me.”

“Oh come off it, we’ve been touching each other in some shape or form since the minute we met. You sit on my lap during movie night. Now all of a sudden I can’t touch your arm?”

Louis looks at him like he’s truly surprised Harry is capable of walking and talking at the same time. “Yeah, that’s when we were mates, innit?”

The rage Harry’s been using as a shield gives way to a jolt of cold surprise. “What?”

“Move out of my way.”

“No.” Harry straightens his back and stands his full height, peering down at Louis in a way that he hopes shows he’s not backing down.

Louis looks unimpressed. “Move or I’ll move you.”

“No you -”

The rest of Harry’s sentence is lost in a grunt of pain as Louis’s magic shoves at him, thrusting him against the wall so hard a frame comes loose and drops to the ground with a smash.

“Yes, I fucking will,” Louis spits. He advances on Harry, even though the way to the door is clear now. Harry’s in no shape to get back up any time soon, the wind knocked out of him good and thoroughly. “You don’t get to treat me like I’m some kind of fucking pariah for weeks and then come in here and order me around. I’m leaving and I don’t give a damn what you think about it, especially since you left weeks ago.”

The magic hurts less than the words. “I haven’t left. I’m standing right here for Christ’s sake.”

Louis throws his hands in the air. “You’re not and you fucking know it. Don’t fuck around with semantics, I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay, fine,” Harry concedes. “I’ve been working long hours. So your solution is to pack all your shit and go. I told you this project is important, it’s not a walk in the fucking park-”

“Millis can spit fire,” Louis interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you know that? For weeks now. Niall was in the garden with us the first time. Zayn and Liam have seen him do it three times now.”  

Louis’s intention had to prove his point and to blindside Harry all at once, it works. Harry flounders, genuinely surprised by the information. He’d missed something important while he was hiding away.

“That's. Well, that’s great,” Harry says in a small voice. “But, I told you it’s because of work, I would have been here if I could -”

Louis makes an impatient noise and interrupts again. “Liam and Zayn are dating. An official couple, have been for some time. Zayn follows him around like a goddamn puppy, he’s all he talks about even when he’s standing right there. Liam’s come to movie night three times, but you wouldn’t know that.”

Harry realizes he’d been wrong both times. The walls aren’t caving in, he’s not drowning, this is something much worse. Louis had gotten himself a train, and every day of silence that Harry put him through had only put more momentum behind him, and now he’s set on running Harry right the fuck over with it.

“I’m sorry,” he tries, reaching for Louis’s arm again but dropping his hand when Louis narrows his eyes. “Lou, look I’m sorry. I know I’ve been a shit friend. I’ll make it up to you.”

Louis’s eyes don’t soften. “What’s going on with you?”

“It’s just work, I told you.” Harry rolls his shoulders back instead of punching the wall.

Louis turns away from him abruptly and strides towards the door. “Yeah, not good enough.”

The sight of Louis walking away from him has the words tumbling out of his mouth without any direction from his brain whatsoever. “I’m in love with you.”

Louis freezes in the doorway. His back rises and falls with three deep breaths before he turns around slowly. His expression is murderous. “Excuse me?”

Harry falters for a moment. That same nasty voice that’s been calling him a coward speaks up and asks him if he’s going to run again. But he’s not, not this time.

“I said I’m in love with you,” Harry repeats, wincing at the way his voice quivers.

Louis blinks. The air around him starts to crackle. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I mean it.” Harry fights the instinct to back away from Louis’s display of magic. Sudden movements probably aren’t the best idea right now. “I’m in love with you and I’ve been hiding it for a while- for forever.”

“Let me summarize, just for the sake of clarification,” Louis says, tone changing abruptly cheerful and professional in clear sign of danger ahead. “You have been avoiding me, giving me the silent treatment, and making me feel utterly alone because you are in love with me. Is that right?”

Harry winces and takes a step towards him. “Lou I wanted-”

“Is it right, yes or no, Harry,” Louis spits out.

It’s not as simple as that though, and it sounds awful when he puts it that way. “That’s not what-”

Louis slams his hand into the door and practically screams. “Yes or no!”

“Yes,” Harry says, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yes that’s what I did.”

Angry energy still crackles in the space around Louis, but his eyes are glistening with unshed tears. Harry’s chest aches at the sight. It physically pains him to see Louis this way and he’s the one who’s responsible.

“How long?” Louis asks eventually, voice no less acidic.

Harry sighs. He’s not sure he even knows the answer to that one. “I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t.”

Louis shakes his head. “I can’t believe you.”

“I’ve been spending just about our entire friendship trying to hide my feelings for you, and I’ve gotten really good at it.” A fat tear rolls down Louis’s cheek. Harry takes a shuddering breath and continues on. “But, the day Millis learned to fly I nearly kissed you, and after that, it was like the floodgates opened. Suddenly, even being in the room with you was too much and I just knew that at any second you would turn around and see it written all over my face.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Louis quietly. “I meant I can’t believe you’ve been lying to my face for over ten years.”

Harry drags a hand roughly over his face, lost as to what to do. The thing is, he’s right - Harry has been lying. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I lied and I swear to God if I could go back in time and fix it, I would.”

The energy around Louis quiets and his shoulders turn in slightly. Visibly, his anger slips away and sadness replaces it. His eyes drop to the ground. “I don’t know what to do about this, Harry.”

 _Believe me, love me, stay with me._ “What do you need?”

Louis is silent for what seems like forever. Figuring he’s a little safer now that Louis’s anger has ebbed Harry shuffles closer to him and reaches out a hand to tangle their fingers together.

Louis eyes snap up and he jerks his hand away - grabbing the handle of the suitcase instead and gripping it with white knuckles. “Space.”

Without another word, he turns and strides out of the room and out of the house with Milis hurrying along in his wake.

 

***

He goes to Niall’s.

Harry doesn’t look for him and Louis doesn’t tell him where he is. But, the morning after Louis leaves, Harry is standing at the kitchen sink and sees Millis hopping around after a bunny on Niall’s porch. He’d assumed that’s where he’d gone but there was his confirmation in the form of a toddler dragon lumbering around.

It takes every ounce of willpower Harry possesses not to go over and beg for Louis to talk to him, but he manages it. Louis had requested space and Harry owes him that, at least. Besides it’s not like he would even know what to say if Louis did agree to speak to him.

Zayn drops in late on the second night, literally drops from the ceiling into the living room in a way that would usually have Harry shaking his head in fond exasperation but now he kind of just wants to punch him in the face. He wants to punch something, anything really.

Harry doesn’t give him anything but a grunt as a greeting, but Zayn doesn’t seem to expect anything else. He walks over to the couch and plops down next to Harry with a huff. Silently, Zayn drapes his arm around Harry’s shoulder and pulls him close.

“You just have to give it some time,” Zayn murmurs after three adverts and an infomercial about floor cleaner. “He’ll come around.”

Harry blinks back tears that spring up out of nowhere. “How do you know?”

Zayn shrugs; the movement jostles Harry a little but he doesn’t move away from the embrace. “Just know, don’t I?”

So Harry drinks his coffee with a little something stronger in it, goes to work and snaps at his crew a couple more times than he normally would, comes home to an empty house, and waits.

 

***

On the morning of the fourth day, Harry comes out of his room and finds a trail of dragon prints in what looks to be flour leading to the kitchen. Heart beating rapidly, he follows them slowly, trying to remind himself that this doesn’t mean anything. Millis could have very well just gotten into the cabin on his own and made a mess. He could be by himself.

Except he’s not. Harry pushes in through the kitchen door and immediately processes two things. One: the kitchen is inexplicably and near wholly covered in flour and Two: Louis is back.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table like some kind of chaos demon with a mug of tea, completely unaffected by the state of the room. Millis is nowhere to be found.

“Niall has turned out to be a complete disappointment,” Louis says conversationally with no preamble at all.

   It takes a second, but Harry recovers from the jolt of surprise and then reigns in the relief that is threatening to show all over his face. Striding over to the coffee maker, he decides to take Louis’s lead and play it cool.

   “There’s a black sheep in every family,” Harry says sagely, focusing his attention on brewing a pot. “What are his transgressions?”

   From the corner of his eye, Harry sees Louis' mouth twitch with a smile. “I went to his cabin for some quiet contemplation and I couldn’t get a moment of peace.”

   Harry sits at across the table from Louis, armed with his mug of coffee, and quirks a brow. “Non-stop partying?”

   Louis sips from his cup and rolls his eyes dramatically. “I wish. Actually, it seems that between golf swings and girlfriends, Niall somehow stumbled his way into a life as an amateur social worker.”

   Millis flies by the window behind Louis’s head trailing a cloud of white dust behind him like a shot down plane. Harry shakes his head a little and then refocuses. “Is that so? Does he have clients and everything?”

   “Just one unwilling client: me,” Louis says with the air of a man who’s lived through a seriously traumatic experience. “He absolutely refused to stop chattering at me the entire time. I  honestly started thinking about mixing in a sleeping potion with his cereal. But, he did eventually help me come to a realization.”

   As far as shows go, this one is pretty good even by Louis’s standards. Luckily, Harry’s been around long enough to know exactly how to play his part. “And what was that?”

   “I’ve been lying too.”

   Harry splashes coffee all over his hand. With a curse and a wince, he shakes his hand around. Louis sighs loudly and slides out of his chair and plops down in the one right next to Harry.

   Taking his hand, he holds it wrapped up in both of his own and looks up at Harry. “That’s not how that was supposed to go, you know. There were no injuries in this scenario when I played it over in my head.”

   As he’s speaking, the pain ebbs away slowly until it’s gone altogether. And then Harry’s got no reason to leave his hand in between Louis’s but he really doesn’t want to pull it away. Louis continues to hold it without comment.

   “Sorry, guess I just wasn’t expecting that.” Harry clears his throat. “About what exactly? The lying I mean, what have you been lying about.”

   Louis drops his eyes, suddenly intent on studying their hands. “About being in love with you, too.”

   Harry’s heart skips a beat or several. He might actually be having some kind of cardiac episode. “Yeah?”

   Louis nods and brings his eyes up slowly. Harry’s never seen anything so blue. “Not like you, not really. I didn’t know.” Louis takes a breath to steady himself before continuing. “What Niall pointed out to me was that I’ve never really been interested in dating anyone, not in any serious kind of way. And I’ve always been a bit jealous when you’ve dated -

   “You have?” Harry blurts out in surprise.

   Louis fixes him with an admonishing glare. “Don’t interrupt Harold, can’t you see I’ve been practicing this speech?”

   He has, that much is clear, and the thought makes Harry warm from the inside out. “I’m sorry, continue.”

   Louis waits for Harry to mime locking his lips and throwing away the key before continuing on. “I’ve always been a bit jealous when you’ve dated other people, but I thought that was just me being a prat.”

   Harry glows. “I love you.”

   Louis blinks and stutters over his words, finally coming to a stop altogether. “Well, fuck, Harry now you’ve thrown me all off course,” he whispers, running an agitated hand through his hair. “Look, the short version? I have loved you since the day Zayn and I found you bumbling around the forest like brand new baby deer. I’ve been in love with you for just as long. I’ve dated one person the entire time we’ve known each other. I am quite obviously and irrefutably in love with you, you idiot.”

   There’s so much that Harry could say to that, so much he wants to say to that. But now that knows that Louis feels the same, he’s never going to let him go and that means he’s got forever to say those things.

   Pulling his hand free quickly he wraps it around Louis’s wrist and tugs, pulling him down so he’s straddling his waist. “Can I kiss you now?”

   Louis knows his lines too. Tilting his head to the side he whispers, “I don’t know, Harry, can you?”

   Harry presses their mouths together firmly before he’s even finished the sentence. Louis melts. That’s the only way to describe the way he goes absolutely spineless in Harry’s arms and gives a tiny whimper. Harry kisses him again sweetly, one, two, three times, before pulling back and resting their foreheads together.

   “Why is there flour all over the kitchen?” he asks, still a little breathless.

   Louis leans forward and mouths along Harry’s jaw. “You ask way too many questions, has anyone ever told you?”

   Harry kisses him again, because really what other option does he have?

 

   Epilogue

“Alright, I’m here. What’s got your knickers all in a bun-” Louis’s stops short just inside the bedroom door, one hand frozen in the act of pushing his hair away from his forehead. “Holy shit.”

   In the middle of the bed is a pile at least two feet high of various types of metal. At first glance, it appears to be mostly coins; which makes sense as they are Millis’s favorite thing to find. But, Louis stumbles into the room and peers closer and spots a couple copper cooking pots and one of Niall’s belt buckles.

   Harry is stood next to the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah, holy shit.”

   And okay, yeah, this isn’t the greatest of situations. Louis is man enough to admit that. Money is dirty and they’ve got no way of knowing where he’s gotten all of this. Plus, Louis is positive the cooking pans haven’t come from any of their cabins, so there's a good possibility someone is looking for them. But, it’s not like he’s bringing home makeshift bombs, it’s money. It’s a bit of a lucrative little game Millis plays, really.

   Louis is about to point that out, when Millis himself comes soaring in through the open bedroom window and lands gracefully on the mattress, facing Louis. He holds his foot out to Louis, blinking his dark eyes slowly, obviously waiting for Louis to take whatever he’s clutching in his talons.

   With a little sigh, Louis indulges him, expecting to be given a handful of coins. Harry groans like he’s in physical pain as soon as he sees what Millis drops in Louis’s palm.

   It’s a small velvet box lined with blue silk. The top is propped open so that its contents are exposed - a singular silver band sporting a row of diamonds that looks to go all the way around.

   This is way bigger than a few spare coins dropped out of someone’s pocket down in the village. This is really not good. “Oh fuck,” Louis whispers. Panicked he looks up at Harry. “Harry, this is bad. How am I going to figure out who this belongs to?”

   Harry clears his throat. “It’s not that bad.”

   Louis blinks at him in disbelief. Then he realizes he must just be trying to keep him calm, remind him that it’s not the end of the world. “Well, no I guess not. I could always try a search and return spell. But, I’ve never done one before and it’s not really meant for this kind of thing. It’s more of a vengeful bit of magic if I’m honest.”

   Staring down at the ring, Louis starts mumbling to himself, going over his options and trying to get his thoughts in order. He’s so wrapped up in finding a solution, he doesn’t realize Harry is trying to get his attention until he nearly shouts his name.

   “What?”

   Harry takes a couple steps towards him then stops, hesitant. “That’s not what I meant.”

   Louis tilts his head curiously. “Not what you meant about what?”

   Millis shifts on the bed and sends a few coins scattering on the floor. Louis watches them spin and then looks back up at Harry, who has yet to respond.

   “I meant,” Harry starts quietly, stopping to clear his throat. “I meant it’s not that bad because I know who the ring belongs to. Or rather, I know who it’s for.”

   Zayn likes to say that Harry was a sphinx in a past life, Louis is starting to believe him. “I don’t understand. Who’s it for?”

   “You.”

   All the gears that are rapidly spinning around in Louis’s head slam to a stop with a screech. “What?”

   Harry visibly swallows and then, to Louis’s horror, sinks down to one knee right in front of him. “Louis -”

   “What?”

   Harry frowns. “No, that was the beginning of my sentence. You have to wait for the rest.”

   Oh. Louis nods dumbly. “Okay, sorry. Try again.”

   “Louis, you are the love of my life and my best friend all wrapped up in one pretty little pain in the ass package,” Harry stops to glare at Louis when he looks like he’s going to interrupt again. Which really wouldn’t be Louis’s fault seeing as Harry is being rude. “I have never loved someone the way I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life making sure you know that. Will you marry me?”

   Louis lets out a shaky breath. “I kind of want to punch you right now. You know my gut reaction to surprises is violence.”

   Harry closes his eyes briefly, probably trying to summon up some patience. “This is supposed to be a surprise.”

   “Okay.”

   Harry stares up at him, waiting. After a moment, he furrows his brow. “Okay, what?”

Louis flaps his hands around, exciting Millis who mimics the gesture and sends coins flying. “Have you forgotten the question?! Okay! I’ll marry you!”

   Time stands still for an entire minute and then chaos erupts. With a gleeful shout, Harry picks Louis up and kisses him, spinning him around the room.

   In the ensuing excitement, Millis lights the curtains on fire. But, neither Harry or Louis can be bothered to care.

 

Fin.


End file.
